When An Irresistible Force…
by piewacket
Summary: Bertie Sparrow, Jack Sparrow's cousin, takes on the challenge of preventing Jack's jilted fiancée from ruining Jack's happy marriage. He gets more than he bargained for. The sequel to A Quiet Biddable Wife.
1. An Abduction

Disclaimer: POTC belongs to Disney and not me. However, after that abomination called AWE, I think that I should be considered as _in loco parentis_ for the characters.

AN: Just a word of warning, this story is completely AU after AWE. Also, the story focuses mostly on original characters with canon characters in supporting roles.

* * *

Millicent stood half hidden behind the draperies watching the dancing rather than participating in the festivities, for tonight she had no heart for engaging in light banter and flirtation. Taking several deep fortifying breaths, she prepared herself for what was an unpleasant duty. Apologizing was never fun and apologizing to a rival who had bested her was even less so. Yet, the insistent voice of her conscience decreed that apologize she must. Squaring her shoulders, she took a step forward intending to intercept the couple before they left the room. If she was going to eat humble pie, it was best to devour the slice all at once and this way she could discharge two obligations at the same time.

Before she could take another step, a large hand covered her mouth and she felt an arm wrap around her waist and lift her from her feet. Unceremoniously, she was hauled from her hiding spot and out through the French doors. It took a moment, but self preservation kicked in and she began to struggle against her captor. Her efforts only netted her a tighter embrace and a deep throated chuckle from her kidnapper.

Millicent began to panic as she realized that this unknown man was carrying her further and further away from the party and any hope of rescue. Wildly, she began kicking and was pleased when she heard a hiss of pain.

"Stop that, you little witch. Just calm down. Believe me; your virtue is safe with me."

Ducking behind a row of hedges, the man set her back on her feet but keep her pinned against him with her mouth securely covered. "If I let go, do you promise not to scream or run away?"

Mutely she shook her head yes, thinking that the man was not only a criminal but a stupid one at that. Of course, she would scream and run, given an opportunity.

The moment she felt his hands lift; Millicent started to flee. Before she took more than three steps, her arm was caught and she was once again yanked against him with her mouth covered by his palm. However, this time she was turned towards him and could identify who was daring to manhandle her in such a fashion. It was that big blonde giant of man, Bertrand Sparrow. Her anger increased as she realized who her imprisoner was. Since arriving in Port Royal a week ago, he had been vocal in his low opinion of her. Now he was insulting enough to treat her in such a manner. Her eyes flashed fire at him.

Bertie found himself amused at her indignation. The little firebrand had put up more of a struggle than he'd anticipated. He had pegged her as the daintily fainting type. Still, it did not really matter, for he had managed to drag her out of there before she spread more of her poison. He owed Jack a great deal and there was no way that he was going to let a little harpy like Millicent Witherspoon mar Jack and Val's happiness. And if protecting Jack required a bit of sacrifice on his part, then so be it. "I am going to give you another chance Miss Witherspoon and remove my hand, but if you abuse my trust, you will regret it. Understand?"

It thoroughly galled Millicent to have to acquiesce to this arrogant idiot's demands, but rationally she knew that challenging him at this moment was a fool's game. He was bigger and stronger and there was no doubt that she would be the loser in any sort of direct confrontation. Resentfully, she nodded her agreement to his unspoken demand that she refrain from yelling and was rewarded when his hand lifted. Furiously, she ordered, "Let go of me, you blackguard."

For the first time during their encounter, Bertie registered how very intimately she was pressed against him. However, he was loathe to release her lest she leave before hearing him out. "Do you give me your word that you will not flee?"

"Yes," Millicent hissed at him.

Amused once again by her ire, Bertrand made a deliberate show of slowly releasing her from his embrace. Immediately, she took a few steps back to widen the distance between them, but true to her word she did not try to escape. They stood silently assessing each other.

After a few tension filled moments, Millicent demanded, "Well?"

"Well what?'"

"You will kindly explain why you felt it necessary to abduct me from the party and treat me in such a deplorable manner. If your explanation is good enough, I just may, and I emphasize _may,_ decide to forgo pressing charges against you."

"Princess, for a young woman who finds herself in a deserted area of the garden with a man twice her size, you certainly demonstrate a foolhardy confidence in trying to order me about."

Bristling at his sarcastic endearment and raising her chin in a challenging manner, Millicent informed him, "There is nothing foolhardy about my actions. You are the one who is a fool. Do you even begin to understand the power that my father wields in this town? Why, I could have you locked up in a moment."

"Evidently he does not possess enough influence to buy you a husband." The sudden sparkle of unshed tears in her eyes caused Bertie to feel ashamed of his harsh words. True, she was a spoiled little brat but he did not fancy himself as an unkind man, no matter how deserved the unkindness. For a moment, he found himself staring at her lovely face. She really was extraordinarily beautiful, in a "touch me not" porcelain doll sort of way. From everything that Jack had disclosed, she also had about as much warmth and passion as a doll. What a pity that such exquisitely beautiful packaging should encase a cold mercenary little heart. This thought caused him to surmise that the tears were most likely contrived in an attempt to manipulate him. All traces of sympathy fled.

"You are the most ill mannered man it has ever been my misfortune to meet. Now, I insist that you reveal your motives for abducting me and forcing your company upon me. You have treated me contemptibly since our first meeting and I want an explanation!"

With exaggerated politeness, Bertie replied, "Why my dear Miss Witherspoon, I should think that an explanation is hardly necessary. But since you insist, I shall be only too happy to oblige. You see, I find you to be the very worst sort of young woman. The sort who thinks the world revolves around her and her wishes. The sort who has no regard for the feelings of others. In short, you are an obnoxiously self centered chit who is in desperate need of a good set down."

Sheer will power prevented Millicent from bursting into tears at this brutal assessment of her character. She would not give this beast the satisfaction of making her cry. He knew nothing about her and her life, and yet he felt that he had the right to sit in judgment on her. Worse yet was the unpalatable truth that some of his words were accurate. For the past few weeks, she had spent a great deal of time in self contemplation and had not found many happy insights into her own soul. It was this very thing that had prompted her to decide to apologize to Valentine and Jack; an apology that had been forestalled by this man. Slowly, anger at Bertrand Sparrow's high handedness trickled past the hurt and Millicent recloaked herself in a haughty demeanor. Forcing a tinkling little laugh out, she inquired, "Now that you have delivered your opinion of me, am I free to go? I should hate to inflict myself upon you any longer and my disappearance is certain to soon be noted. Although I may not be your cup of tea, I do believe that there are several _young_men eagerly awaiting my return."

Bertrand noticed her verbal jab and was disquieted to realize that it pricked. "Let them wait. You'll no doubt recompense them for their troubles with a fluttering of your eyelashes and a simpering grin. You are not leaving here until you give me your word that you will no longer interfere with Jack and Valentine's happiness."

"Fine," Millicent readily agreed, for that had been her own decision several days ago.

Bertie narrowed his eyes and tried to figure out why she had so easily submitted to his order. There had to be a catch. Women like her were always up to some sort of devious plotting. He decided to be more specific, "You will not approach or otherwise interact with Valentine or Jack, unless in a public setting. And then, you will be the model of graciousness and kindness, understand? There will be no more threats and jealous tantrums, or you will answer to me."

Millicent felt her temper dangerously rise at his dictates. How dare he believe that he had the right to speak to her in such a fashion? Yet, it would serve no purpose to rail at him, for his hide was thicker than a rhinoceros's. More importantly, she had every intention of following the last two terms of his demands, but only because she wanted to, not because he ordered it. It was just the part about not approaching Valentine that she would not accept. Still, Bertrand Sparrow did not need to know about her plans. Crossing her fingers behind her back and plastering a smile on her face, she serenely assured him, "I will not approach or bother your cousin and his wife. Satisfied? Am I free to leave now?"

Suspiciously, his gaze raked her face but he could find nothing to belie her words. "Good. I am glad that we understand each other. Now you may run along to your little coterie of besotted admirers. More's the pity for them."

Millicent merely smiled at his insulting words. She was already developing a protective armor where this man was concerned. In as coquettish a voice as she could muster, she queried, "Am I allowed to give you a piece of advice, Mr. Sparrow?"

"By all means, Miss Witherspoon, I await with bated breath your sage words of wisdom."

Having surreptitiously gathered her skirts in her hands, Millicent paused a moment before yelling, "_Mind your own damn bloody business!" _Then she swiftly delivered a sharp kick to his shin and whirled around to run towards the safety of the house. As she ran, she noted with great satisfaction his grunt of surprise and pain.

As he watched her flee, Bertie considered giving chase but then thought better of it. Most likely, that course of action would end up in an extremely undignified tussle in front of witnesses. It was not that he minded the gossip, but he did not want the attendant responsibilities that would arise. The very last thing that he wanted was to be trapped into offering marriage because he had compromised Miss Witherspoon's reputation. No, he had taken enough of a risk in that direction already, any more would be reckless. He hobbled over to a stone bench and rubbed his aching limb. A grudging admiration for her feistiness surfaced and with a shiver of foreboding he thought, _"Perhaps I have bitten off more than I can chew?"_


	2. Friendships Formed

Millicent raised her hand for the third time, but once against hesitated before grasping the door knocker. Taking a deep breath, she told herself to stop acting like a ninny and to just plunge ahead and get the unpleasant task completed. A flush of irritation stole over her as she realized that this task would already have been accomplished, if it hadn't been for that annoying Bertrand Sparrow. Well, there was no use thinking about that now, thoughts of Mr. Bertrand Sparrow only served to make her angry and she did not wish to begin this task in a hostile frame of mind. Decisively, she grabbed the knocker and rapped smartly on the door. A few moments later, a young housemaid answered the door. Millicent handed her a calling card and then followed the servant into the front parlor to await her interview with the mistress of the house.

As Millicent waited, she surveyed her surroundings. On one other occasion she had been in this room and she had used the opportunity to shamelessly snoop for private information. This time, she merely perused her surroundings out of curiosity and approvingly noted that the furnishings were tasteful and comfortable, understated elegance. Here and there touches of masculinity dotted the room. Evidently, Jack had made his mark upon the decoration.

Millicent wryly smiled to herself at the thought of Jack Sparrow. Her failed engagement to him had been the catalyst for her recent voyage of self discovery. It had been a voyage that she had gone on kicking and screaming, but nevertheless a voyage that had been enlightening. The humiliation of being left at the altar had sent her into a rage that she had spewed on the world at large. A particular focal point had been Val. Millicent now cringed at the remembrance of her insistence that the other woman be sent to the gaol. Fortunately, Jack had spirited her out of Port Royal before that injustice could occur. Millicent had no illusions that an abject apology would ever suffice if Val had had to spend weeks imprisoned. As it was, it was highly likely that the olive branch that she was here to extend would be summarily thrown back in her face.

A murmuring of voices interrupted her thoughts and gave Millicent a mere moments' warning that Val was not alone. The door opened and in walked not only Valentine Sparrow but also Katherine Norrington and Elizabeth Turner. Only years of deportment lessons prevented Millicent from issuing a load groan of despair and frustration. The difficulty of her task had just increased threefold. In an artificially bright tone, she forced out, "Good afternoon Mrs. Norrington, Mrs. Turner, and Mrs. Sparrow. Or perhaps I should say, Lady Sparrow?"

"Mrs. Sparrow is adequate. Neither Jack nor I have much use for the formalities. There will be time enough for that in the future. Please, sit down." As the four women took their seats, the young maid carried in a tray with tea. Several minutes were taken up with the ritual of pouring tea and the necessary questions regarding sugar and milk.

As the rote social actions were performed, Millicent studied the other women and tried to read their expressions. Mrs. Turner looked as if she had swallowed something distasteful and Mrs. Norrington was full of suppressed energy, as if awaiting an entertaining spectacle. Yet, neither of the women had acknowledged her by more than the merest nod of their head. Clearly, the three had decided before entering the room that Mrs. Sparrow would take the lead in this encounter. That suited Millicent's purposes well. It was hard enough to defend yourself against one prosecutor, let alone three. It was rather worrisome however, that, with the exception of a slight raising of her eyebrow at Millicent's request for four lumps of sugar, Mrs. Sparrow's countenance revealed none of her thoughts.

The four quietly sipped at their tea. The tension in the room increased until Millicent could no longer stand it and she blurted out more loudly than she intended, "I came to offer my apologies for the dreadful way that I've treated you. "

The faces of the three other women could not have shown more surprise if Millicent had suddenly sprouted wings and began to fly about the room. Taking advantage of their stunned silence, she rushed on, "It was wrong of me to try to have you thrown into the gaol. My past behavior towards you, all three of you, has been inexcusably rude and I beg your forgiveness."

The room fell silent as each woman pondered this pronouncement. Three were frankly suspicious of what had prompted it and the fourth, Millicent, was relieved that she had just discharged three obligations in one fell swoop. Overall, the whole experience had been easier than she'd anticipated.

Clearing her throat slightly, Katherine murmured, "You'll forgive me, if I have a difficult time believing the sincerity of your words."

The subject now broached, Elizabeth chimed in, "Yes, I also confess to having trouble accepting this at face value. As long I have known you, Millicent Witherspoon, you have been malicious and mean to anyone not in your circle of friends. Why would you now wish to ask for forgiveness?"

Millicent swallowed the rude retort she had been about to make. After all, Elizabeth Turner had only spoken the truth. Millicent was quickly finding that turning over a new leaf was not so very pleasant when ugly slimy bugs were revealed. She silently appealed to Mrs. Sparrow for understanding.

Val smiled slightly and shook her head, "I am afraid that I also can not offer you carte blanche forgiveness, Miss Witherspoon. Without some sort of explanation for this sudden change of heart, it appears rather suspect."

Millicent's gaze focused firmly on the floor, as if the pattern of the rug had become enthralling. Inwardly, she was debating her options. She had known that this would likely be the outcome to her overture. Frankly, it would have been amazing if they had not been wary of her motives. She knew that they were due some sort of explanation but the truth was so very difficult to admit to herself, let alone others. Still, if she wanted any hope of friendship with these women, then she needed to tell the truth. In a voice so soft they almost missed hearing her, she mumbled, "I know that it was wrong of me to act the way I did with the three of you, but I was… I was jealous."

Millicent felt the heat flood her cheeks at this embarrassing revelation. Unconsciously, she held her breath awaiting their reaction. She did not think that she could bear it if they laughed at her.

The silence in the room was deafening. Once again, Kat was the one to break it. "Jealous? Why on Earth would you be jealous of us? Oh, I suppose I understand about Val, after all she is married to the man that you love, but I can think of no good reason for you to be jealous of me or Elizabeth."

"I am not in love with Jack Sparrow," Millicent hotly denied, for the thought of being viewed as a lovesick fool was one humiliation too many. Then it dawned on her, that her vehemence could easily be mistaken as proof of the very opposite. Also, it was probable that Mrs. Sparrow could find her dismissal of Mr. Sparrow insulting. Having already made a fool of herself, she decided, _in for a penny in for a pound. _Stalling for a few more moments to compose herself, Millicent picked up her cup and sipped.

Val had been watching the emotions flitting across the younger woman's face. Sighing, she stood up and walked over to the drinks table. Lifting a bottle of brandy, she declared to the room in general, "Something tells me that we are going to need to indulge in a little of my specialty tea." Val proceeded to pour a measure of the brandy into each of the ladies' cups. When Millicent tried to object, she firmly overruled her. "Trust me, Miss Witherspoon, this afternoon will be more enjoyable with a little bit of help. Now, you were about to tell us, exactly what you found so enviable?"

Millicent sniffed delicately at her tea and then took a small sip. Pleasurable warmth slid down her throat and into her belly. She took this as a sign that she was doing the right thing, for already, after only a few minutes in these ladies' company, she had had a new life experience. With the exception of two glasses of champagne at her betrothal ball, she had never tried spirits. Another, larger sip, and then she jumped feet first into her explanation. "I was jealous about a lot of things, Mrs. Sparrow. I was jealous because all of you have men who adore you, the whole of you and not just the exterior. I was jealous because you all have had adventures, while I have never been anywhere except Port Royal. But mostly, I was jealous of the everyday freedoms that the three of you enjoy."

"But you father dotes on you, he gives you everything that you ask for," Elizabeth protested.

"I know that I sound ungrateful and horrifically spoiled, but that is part of the problem. My father was so devastated by the loss of my mother that he has spent the last eighteen years wrapping me in cotton wool, so that I will always be protected. I am never allowed to do anything for myself, never allowed to participate in anything even remotely dangerous. I have spent my entire childhood being tutored and trained by governesses on how to be the perfect society wife. I never really questioned my role in life until you ran off and then married Will Turner. It had never occurred to me that I could make a different choice."

"Yet, you were prepared to wed Jack to become a countess, a man for whom you claim to have no feelings. It seems to me like your desire to break free is rather limited," Katherine cynically commented.

Millicent felt herself flush. "Yes, I was prepared to do that. I can not deny that I still wish to marry well. It may sound vain, but with my looks I should easily be able to marry a man in the peerage. If I am not to marry for love, better it be with a rich and titled man rather than a poor and common one." She shot a look at the three other women that dared them to find fault with this logic. None of them offered any objection, so she continued, "Besides, Jack was more than a rich and titled man. He'd been a pirate, so I just knew that he would be exciting and adventurous. That was why I was so vile when I found out that he was already married. Before him, all of my suitors had been such sheep and embarrassingly eager to please. I just knew that Jack would be the one that…" Just in time, Millicent caught herself from revealing a very embarrassing fact.

"That he would be the one that, what?" Katherine pounced.

Val had been quietly listening to Miss Witherspoon's confession and observing her demeanor. The young woman appeared sincere. Val had a pretty good idea what Millicent had almost unintentionally admitted. "Tell me, Miss Witherspoon, have you ever been in love?" At the younger woman's head shake, Val bit back a smile. She had known the answer before she asked the question. She could guess what Millicent was trying to delicately refer to, without actually saying the words. Millicent wanted passion and if Jack was to be believed, and there was no reason not to believe him, then she had most definitely not found that passion with Jack. Val recalled overhearing Jack, in a moment of extremely ungentlemanly behavior, telling his cousin Bertrand that kissing Millicent had been "_like kissing a cold lifeless doll_."

Noting that Millicent's cup of tea was nearly empty, Val poured in more brandy. While she was at it, she topped off all four cups. By now, the proportion of tea to brandy was minimal. "How can I put this discreetly? Has no man ever captured your fancy? Perhaps some young man has made you wish to do forbidden things?"

Millicent drained half the cup and then admitted, "No, no _young_ man has ever made me wish to do forbidden things."

Her emphasis on the word young was noted by Katherine, Elizabeth, and Val. "The way you say that, implies that there has been someone."

Millicent drained the rest of the liquid in her cup and scowled. "Well, recently there has been a man who makes me want to do some very wicked things."

The three older women leaned forward eagerly and at the same time inquired; "Who?" "What is his name?" "Are we acquainted with him?"

"Bertrand Sparrow."

There was a ruckus as cups were hastily set down at this highly unexpected news. Elizabeth asked the question on everyone's mind, "What exactly does Bertrand Sparrow make you feel like doing?"

Millicent leaned in towards the three and then held out her cup for a refill. Val hesitated for a moment, for it was now obvious that the younger woman was well on her way to being foxed. Impatiently, Katherine grabbed the bottle out of her hand and poured a stiff measure into the cup. After a long sip, Millicent conspiratorially whispered, "Bertrand Sparrow is so high handed and arrogant that he makes me want to…" Millicent interrupted herself with a hiccup, a hiccup that sent her into a fit of giggles. After a few moments, she regained some composure and continued, "He makes me want to bop him right on the nose. Very wicked of me, indeed." Another fit of giggles hit, this time she was joined by the other ladies.

"Well, that was not exactly what I had in mind, but I suppose it's a start." Val's comment was lost on Millicent and Elizabeth, both of whom were still madly giggling. However, Katherine met and held her eyes, giving a small nod of agreement. Both of them were well acquainted with this particular type of attraction; the type where it was difficult to decide from one moment to the next if you would rather slap him silly or kiss him senseless.


	3. A New Life

"So, Bertie, do you find the entertainments of Port Royal to your liking?" James Norrington and Bertrand Sparrow had long left formalities behind. The two men hit it off immediately and a strong friendship was almost instantaneously developed. Later, when James thought about it, he attributed it to Bertie combining the best of Jack's charming and daring characteristics with a deeply ingrained sense of honor and formality. He was the perfect bridge between him and Jack Sparrow. Best of all, Bertie, unlike Jack, did not provoke the conflicted feelings of befriending an ex-pirate. It was a simple, uncomplicated friendship, something of which James had had few of in his life.

"The dance the other night was very diverting. If I had known sooner, how many beautiful women made their home in Port Royal, I might have visited Jack years ago."

"Well, mate, if you'd done that, my good friend, the commodore, would likely have arrested you and thrown you into the gaol on charges of conspiring with a pirate. Isn't that right, Norrington?"

"I am afraid that your cousin is correct. Although that is in the past and best not dredged up again, unless we want to get into unpleasant memories."

"Aye, you're right there, James. Best to leave the past in the past, especially when the present is so very enjoyable."

Bertie chuckled. "I never thought to see you leg shackled and enjoying it, Jack. Why you positively have the glow of a man in love. Frankly, between you, James, and Will, it's almost enough to turn a man's stomach."

"Your day will come, Bertie. Mark my words. Someday, when you least expect it, a bit of skirt will catch your fancy and before you know it you'll be marching down the aisle."

"I would prefer it, if you would refrain from referring to my wife and yours as a bit of skirt."

Jack laughed heartily and took the opportunity to tease James. "Afraid she'll hear about it?"

Deadpan, James answered, "Yes. And you would do well to remember that after she had taken me to task, she would turn upon you and then hand you over to Val for further retribution."

"You have a point," Jack conceded. "Well now, it's time for us to get going or we'll be late for dinner. We still have to stop by and pick up young William. I wonder what tales he'll have today, concerning Miss Witherspoon and her attempts to run me out of town."

Bertie smiled smugly. "You will no longer be bothered by that little harpy. She and I had a discussion at the dance, and have come to an understanding. Miss Witherspoon will no longer bother you or Val."

"You really think that Miss Witherspoon will give up her campaign just because you spoke with her?" Jack shook his head in a mock sorrowful manner. "Ah, what is the world coming to when a man such as Bertie can so delude himself? She is a woman scorned. Granted, a woman scorned who never really wanted the man what scorned her, who only wanted his title and fortune, but still, a woman scorned. No wonder, you've little success with the ladies if you're so addled as to think that a talk would soothe her ruffled feathers."

"I have more than my share of success with the fairer sex and I can be very _persuasive _when I want to be. Believe me, unless you seek her out, you have seen the last of Miss Witherspoon."

"We shall see dear boy. We shall see." Having had the last word on the subject, Jack headed for the door.

* * *

Hours passed with all four women freely imbibing in spirits and conversation. At some point, the brandy had run out, and so the ever practical Val had suggested that they switch to rum. Two of the women had immediately endorsed this suggestion, with only Elizabeth refusing to partake in "that vile drink." 

For the first time her in her life, Millicent found that she was truly enjoying the company of other women. It did not hurt that all three of her new found friends were less than conventional in nature. Millicent relished this unprecedented break in her strict adherence to societal expectations. She felt daring. She felt naughty. She felt invincible.

"Tell me, Millicent, what is one thing that you have always wanted to do, but never had the courage to pursue?"

Millicent pondered the question. It was not a paucity of answer that held her tongue silent, but rather that an overwhelming number of ideas came to mind. For so very long, she had stifled anything that her father might consider unladylike that, when finally asked to voice a hidden desire, she had trouble choosing only one. "Oh, there are so many things, Katherine. I should love to travel, and to read novels, and to sing in an opera, and to have a grand passion, and to ride, and to …" Millicent stopped at the other women's laughter. For a moment she bristled, certain that they were laughing at her. Then, she saw the indulgent smiles on their faces, and joined in their laughter.

Sympathetically, Elizabeth observed, "It's no wonder you have always been surly. Does your father permit you no liberties at all?"

"He means well. He truly does. He just wants me safe and protected."

"What do _you _want, Millicent?"

"I want to experience life. To spread my wings." In her exuberance, Millicent flung her arms wide. Unfortunately, she forgot about the tea cup of rum that she was holding and it went sailing across the room and landed with a crash against the wall. For a moment, all four women stared at the shattered remains in horror, and then they broke into uncontrollable laughter that lasted for several minutes.

When at last she gained her breath, Val kindly told her, "I must say, Millicent, that you display a great amount of enthusiasm. Let me be the first to congratulate you on your new outlook on life. And I know just what will assist you on your way. Tomorrow, you can come by in the morning and we can begin your horseback riding lessons."

Katherine chimed in. "And you can borrow as many of my books as you like. I have a lot of serious works but I do think that you would like Mr. Shakespeare's comedies. I even have some novels by Mrs. Radcliff. They are rather silly, but a great deal of fun to read."

"I am afraid that leaves me with opera, of which I know next to nothing. However, I could teach you to fence or sail if you like," Elizabeth offered.

The suggestions left Millicent speechless. She furtively wiped away the tears that filled her eyes. Never had she expected to enjoy such camaraderie with any women, let alone these three. She gave them a watery smile. "Thank you, ladies. You are far kinder to me than I have any right to expect. Of course, that will not prevent me from taking you up on your offers."

"Then it is settled. Tomorrow, you will begin your new life, Millicent. Be sure to wear something that you can ride in. You would not happen to own a pair of breeches?"

"No, but I have a riding habit. Why father purchased it for me, I'll never know, but it is very beautiful."

'No, that will not do. Don't fret; I shall manage to find you something more suitable."

A puzzled look crossed Millicent's face. "What could be more suitable than a riding habit?" Then, a memory surfaced and she smiled. "How stupid of me, you mean to teach me to ride astride. Oh, how deliciously wicked. I remember Mr. Sparrow saying that many women prefer the astride position for long hard rides. Is it really that much more enjoyable?"

Val, Katherine, and Elizabeth exchanged amused glances. Miss Witherspoon was refreshingly naïve. At some point, she would have to be educated, but today was not the day and a front parlor was not the place. This fact was reaffirmed when, with no preamble, the door opened and four men strode in.

For a moment, four pairs of eyes silently assessed the situation; the somewhat disheveled appearances of the women and the empty bottle of brandy and half empty bottle of rum. Then in a sotto voice, Jack gleefully observed, "It would appear as if you greatly overestimated your powers of persuasion, Bertie. For, if my eyes do not deceive me, that is the estimable Miss Witherspoon."

Val quickly stood and interjected before Jack could voice the unkind comment hovering on his lips. "Jack, Miss Witherspoon and I have mended our fences. All is forgiven and in the past. She is a guest in our house and I would have you treat her as such." The last was said with a note of warning in her voice.

Jack, Bertie, Will, and James all had difficulty digesting this bit of information. Yet, the proof was before their eyes. All four women appeared incredibly cozy with each other, and Kat, Val, and Elizabeth hovered protectively about Millicent, looking like lionesses defending a cub.

Used to the vagaries of women, Jack shrugged his shoulders and merely asked, "Will Miss Witherspoon be joining us for dinner then?"

At these words, Millicent jumped up, wobbled unsteadily on her feet, and collapsed back onto the settee. "Oh my gracious, I completely lost track of the time. Father will be frantic with worry. I must head home at once." Once again she stood, this time she managed to keep her balance. Slowly and unsteadily, she began walking towards the door. It was odd how difficult walking had suddenly become, of course it would help if the room would stop spinning.

James politely grasped her elbow in an attempt to steady her. "Miss Witherspoon, allow me to escort you to your carriage." He was disconcerted when this offer was met with a peal of giggles from the young woman in question.

"I am afraid, Commodore Norrington, that you should have decidedly long walk and miss your dinner. I came by foot and have no carriage waiting." Airily she waved a hand about, "Do not let it disturb you. I am more than cap... capa…ca…" Millicent was having a hard time finishing her sentence because of another attack of the hiccups. Taking deep breath, she quickly blurted out, "Capable of seeing myself home. After all, I am a grown and independent woman."

Norrington gave his wife a censorious look. "Exactly how much she did imbibe? Really, Kat, you should know better than to give hard spirits to a young woman. Not everyone has your constitution."

Kat's temper flared at the unjust accusation. "I was not the only one in the room, James. Why do you assume that it was me? Beside, she stopped drinking quite awhile ago, when we ran out of brandy. She tried the rum but it was not to her taste. I daresay that she is just having a delayed reaction."

With a heavy sigh, James conceded, "Perhaps I was too quick to blame. At any rate, she can not leave unescorted. Val, please excuse me, but I think it best that I see her home in one of your carriages."

"I'll go with James. Val, we will just have reschedule our dinner for another night."

Bertie had been silently watching the interchange while keeping a close eye on the hiccuping Miss Witherspoon. She seemed a trifle steadier on her feet, but it was obvious that she would never make it home without assistance. Suppressing a shiver of distaste at what he knew he must do, Bertie voiced, "Let me see her home. After all, I am a last minute addition to the party and the odd man out. No need for all of your plans to be aborted."

Millicent planted her hands on her hips and objected, "No. I shall not accompany such a bully. Besides, it would be most improper." Her own words rang in her ears and then Millicent smiled a small smile. It _would_ be improper for her to be alone in a carriage with a man. This could be her very first act as a newly independent and daring young woman. What a terrific opportunity. She had the chance to engage in a mildly scandalous behavior with no real fear for her virtue. Mr. Bertrand Sparrow made his dislike of her patently clear, so there was no danger of him making improper advances. "On second thought, I think it a grand idea. Yes, you may escort me home, Mr. Sparrow." The pronouncement was made with the air of a queen granting a lowly subject a great favor. Unfortunately, the loud hiccup at the end marred the air of regal condescension.

Bertrand surveyed her with narrowed eyes. He had not missed her small smile and was positive that it meant that Miss Millicent Witherspoon was once again up to no good. Val, Elizabeth, and Katherine were foolish to trust this viper. With a deliberately derisive note in his voice, Bertrand bowed and said, "You do me a great honor, Miss Witherspoon. Make your goodbyes and I shall see to the carriage."

As he strode from the room, Millicent stuck her tongue out at his back. What a truly obnoxious man. Well, she would not allow him to ruin the happy afternoon that she had just spent with her new friends. Several minutes later, with warm wishes and a promise to return in the morning for her riding lesson, Millicent climbed into the carriage with Jack's assistance.

The carriage ride proceeded in frosty silence with only the occasional hiccup from Millicent breaking the quiet. Impatiently, Bertie bit out, "Plug your nose and hold your breath."

"What?"

"Plug your nose and hold your breath for a count of thirty. It will rid you of the hiccups."

Millicent searched his face for signs that he was having fun at her expense. Finding none, she decided to take his advice. When after the count of thirty, she drew in a ragged breath and was pleased to discover that the remedy had indeed worked. Begrudgingly she thanked him.

"Don't mention it, _princess._ I was growing tired of them myself."

"Why do you insist on calling me that?"

"Why_, princess_, it is your goal to marry a titled gentleman, is it not? Why sell yourself short?"

"Do not be absurd. I am aware that I shall never marry a prince. But you needn't be so nasty, it is entirely feasible that I could attract another earl or maybe even a duke."

Bertie jerked the reins so hard that the horse whinnied in protest. Furiously, he turned to her, "Who told you…" In the nick of time, common sense prevailed and he realized that she could not possibly know. The only person in Port Royal in possession of that information was Jack and Jack had not even told Val. It had merely been an innocent boast from a vain young woman. Unaccountably annoyed by her open admission that she was willing to sell herself to the highest bidder, he drawled insultingly, "Well then, I shall have to address you as _duchess_. After all, we would not want to give you airs above your station, would we?"

"I would prefer that you not address me at all, Mr. Sparrow. "

Millicent emphasized her statement by turning so that her back was to him. Bertie smiled for that was perfectly fine with him. He never should have even started a conversation with her. The sooner he discharged this duty, the better. Millicent Witherspoon was a spoiled child who could not be trusted to keep her word. It was no small measure of relief when, less than ten minutes later, he pulled up in front of her house. Having had manners drilled into him since childhood, he jumped out to assist Millicent from the carriage. However, when he would have taken her hand, she jerked it away and haughtily informed him, "I am able to disembark without any help from the likes of you." With a disdainful toss of her head, she lifted a foot and then spoiled the effect by falling face forward towards the ground. It was solely quick action on Bertrand's part that prevented her from injury.

She toppled from the carriage and with a thud landed against his chest. He had caught her in his embrace before any damage was done. Winded, she lay quietly pinned to him for a moment, before becoming aware of just how closely she was plastered to his body. He was so much taller her than her, that her feet did not even touch the ground. She gave him an outraged look and he slowly loosened his hold, so that she slid down the length of him and her feet found earth.

When he made no further effort to release her, Millicent placed her hands against his chest and tried to push him away. She felt the vibrations of his chuckle against her palms. "Take your hands off of me, Mr. Sparrow."

"It would seem as if I just saved you from a nasty tumble, _duchess_. I would think that a reward was in order." Mentally, Bertie kicked himself. What the hell was he doing, flirting with this chit? Then again, the feel of her pliable body pressed against his did rather belie the categorization of her as a child. Inexplicably, Bertie found himself fascinated by this disheveled and slightly inebriated version of Miss Witherspoon. The fascination increased as she tilted her head up to glare at him.

Millicent was about to deliver a sharp reprimand when her gaze fastened on his lips. Her heart skittered and she felt an unbearable curiosity to know what his mouth would feel like. Unconsciously, Millicent leaned a little more into his embrace. She pried her gaze from his tempting lips and looked directly into his eyes. Staring into the dark blue depths, Millicent recognized a familiar sight; Bertrand Sparrow desired to kiss her. Millicent awaited the normal feeling of revulsion and was surprised when it did not arrive.

Without thought, the tip of her tongue darted out and moistened her lips. She saw a flare of something wild spark in his eyes. Disconcerted, her eyelids fluttered closed, shutting out the disturbing vision. Millicent could feel the warmth of Bertrand's breath on her cheek as he leaned in closer. A peep snuck beneath her lashes, revealed that his mouth was about to settle upon hers. Then, the momentary spell was interrupted by the sound of a door opening and a maid calling, "There you are Miss Witherspoon. Your father was about to send out a search party for you."

Millicent jerked from his embrace. "Let go of me, you brute. How dare you maul at me in such a fashion."

"Maul at you? Duchess, I can read the signs as well as any man, and you all but begged me to kiss you."

"What are you talking about? Signs, what signs?"

"The fluttering of eyelashes, the demure look, and the subtle drawing attention to your lips by licking them, face it, Miss Witherspoon, you wanted me to kiss you and you still do." Bertie hushed the voice inside his head, which sounded suspiciously like his mother, taking him to task for speaking so rudely to a lady.

Millicent was flummoxed. All the tricks he'd accused of her employing were, in fact, weapons in her arsenal which she had utilized on several occasions. But this time, she could not recall making a conscious decision to do so. Bertrand Sparrow was a man dangerous to her peace of mind and it was time to put him in his place for good. "You flatter yourself, Mr. Sparrow. I would never demean myself with a commoner like you. Now, why don't you run along a find some tavern wench? That type of woman is more suited to a man in your station in life." Without giving him a chance to respond, she ran up the stairs and through the open door, ordering the maid to shut it.

Ignoring the servant's worried protests, Millicent made for her suite and slammed the door shut. Breathing heavily, she leaned against it. She closed her eyes in an attempt to shut out the events that had just occurred. Bertrand Sparrow had been about to kiss her. Kiss her in broad daylight and in the middle of the street. Worse yet, she had wanted him to kiss her!

Millicent forced herself to calm down and look at things rationally. It must have been the spirits. There was no other logical explanation; for there was no possible way that she was attracted to the dratted man. No way, that he, of all of the men who had courted her, should cause her to feel such stirrings of longing. It had to have been the drink. Never again would she indulge, if this was the result. Luckily, this time she had managed to escape with minimal damage done, but next time she might not be so fortunate.


	4. Riding Lessons

AN: Some unplanned smut. Don't know why, but the story just took me here. Perhaps, it was the talk of smut in the POTC HOF chat room. Didn't think that there would be too many objections. LOL

* * *

"Put a smile on your face and stop sulking."

"Don't you dare to presume to tell me what to do, Mr. Sparrow." Millicent tried to surreptitiously pull her elbow from his hard grasp. Just her luck that she should be the odd woman out at this dinner party, and thus forced to endure Bertie Sparrow's escort to the dining room. Of late, it seemed as if some particularly virulent demon had been purposefully plaguing her with Mr. Sparrow's presence. Everywhere she went, he was there. Port Royal was a small town but not so small as to explain his constant presence. She gave voice to her suspicions. "Are you following me, Mr. Sparrow?"

Bertie gave her an unrepentant grin. "Of course I am, duchess. Someone needs to keep an eye on you. I told you that I would not allow you to interfere with Jack and Val's happiness. Since you can not be trusted to keep your word, I have decided to stick to you like glue and keep an eye on you."

"What do you mean I can not be trusted to keep my word?" Millicent quivered with outrage at his accusation.

"Well, duchess, you promised that you would not approach Jack or Val and then, not two days later, I find you ensconced in their drawing room. Now, does that sound like the actions of a woman who can be trusted?"

"That does not count. You obtained that promise under duress. Besides, I had my fingers crossed."

Bertie stared at her in wonder and then started laughing. "You are such a child, duchess. Crossed your fingers, did you? Well, of course, that makes everything perfectly acceptable."

Millicent did not miss the sarcastic tone in his voice. That, combined with his dismissal of her as a child, rankled and fueled her temper. She was sorely tempted to slap him but realized that such behavior would only end with her embarrassing herself and proving him correct. Swallowing her instinctive reaction, Millicent smiled sweetly and with a sugary sweet voice informed him, "Mr. Sparrow, you seem awfully preoccupied with me and my actions. For the past two weeks, I have spent numerous hours in Val's company and, as you have to admit, I have done absolutely nothing to jeopardize or infringe on her or Jack's happiness. In fact, Val has become a dear friend and mentor. I really think that your insistence on dogging my footsteps has little to do with anything except your own pigheaded refusal to admit that you were wrong about me."

During their whispered conversation, they had reached the dining table. Bertie politely pulled out her chair and then not so politely, shoved it back in a tad harder than necessary. He ignored her look of outrage and bent over to whisper warningly in her ear, "Trust me, duchess; I know that I am not wrong about you. You will show your true colors soon enough and, when you do, I shall be there to stop you before you cause too much damage. Then, I will make you regret the day you met me."

Millicent murmured back, "I already do." Noting that their quiet interchange had drawn the attention of others, she smiled prettily and loudly said, "Thank you for the escort, Mr. Sparrow. Time spent with you is always so very diverting." With deliberate rudeness, she turned her back to him, proceeding to put a great deal of effort into engaging the gentleman next to her in a conversation.

Deciding that it was best to ignore the direct cut that she had just dealt him, Bertie took his seat. The little viper would slip up sooner or later and when she did, he would take great delight in meting out a suitable punishment.

* * *

"Well now, that's a sight to tempt a man."

Val laughed, stood up, and turned around. Her spouse was leaning causally against the doorframe of the stall. "Really Jack, you are becoming rather predictable. Haven't you used that line before?"

Jack smiled roguishly and waggled his eyebrows. "Ah yes, I believe that I have, but it's still appropriate."

"Well, save your charm for later. Millicent is waiting outside for her next riding lesson. I just needed to check Diablo's shoes before saddling him. Come on, move out of the way so that I can saddle him." Val made shooing motions with her hands.

Not only did Jack ignore her orders, but he began to slowly stalk towards her, like a cat about to pounce on a mouse. Val felt a tingle of excitement run down her spine; evidently, he was in one of _those_ moods. Neatly dodging around him, she slipped out of the stall and headed to the tack room. Thinking he was still back at the stall, she called out, "Later, Jack. Now is neither the time, nor place." The next moment she emitted a slight shriek as she felt a warm pair of lips descend on her neck. _How did he always manage to sneak up on her like that? _As his hands began to work their way under her shirt, she lodged a protest, "I swear you must be part cat.I've never met anyone who can move as quietly as you."

Jack chuckled and let his hands continue their roaming. "Not everyone is a noisy as you are, Valentine. It takes practice to learn to be silent and stealthy. Perhaps we should practice now, hhhmmn? What do you think?"

"Jack, we can't. Millicent is right outside. She'll come in, if I don't appear soon."

"Don't worry about her, love. Bertie is out there as well. The way the two of them argue, it will be at least a quarter hour before either notices our absence." He could feel her resistance melting away as he nuzzled at her ear. "Besides, it has been far too long since we've played stallion and mare and I can't think of a more fitting environment."

"But Jack…"

"Enough discussion, Mrs. Sparrow. Place your hands against the wall." Jack gave her a gentle but firm push in that direction. When she shot him a hesitant glance over her shoulder and kept her hands at her side, he growled sharply, "Now!"

Complying with his directive, Val leaned forward slightly and placed her palms against the wood. She was rewarded with a sharp nip to her earlobe and Jack's throaty whisper, "That's a good girl. You should always obey your husband."

Before she could object to his comment, she was distracted by the quick work that his fingers made of her breech's buttons. She felt a cool draft of air caress her buttocks as Jack yanked the garment down. Her breathing stilled when he began softly stroking the insides of her thighs. Soon, his nimble fingers made their way higher and into the curly thatch of hair between her legs. In no time at all, Val was biting her lips to keep from crying out, but she could not stop the little whimpers from escaping.

"Like that, do you, love?"

Val nodded her assent and then was disappointed when he abruptly withdrew his questing hands. She made a murmur of protest.

"Hush darling, we'll get there in good time. Don't forget, you're supposed to be learning how to be quiet and discreet." Jack placed his hands on Val's hips and carefully tugged until she was cantilevered, with her weight solely supported by her hands against the wall. Now that he had her effectively immobilized, Jack began to explore and play to his heart's content. He palmed her breasts and lightly rolled and squeezed the hard little tips. Her hiss of indrawn breath egged him on and he squeezed harder until she began to try to twist away.

Slowly, he lifted the hem of her shirt up, so that her back was exposed. With his tongue, he traced the line of Valentine's spine, from the top of her neck down to her tailbone. Jack smirked in masculine triumph as he felt her shudder with desire. He could see the light sheen of perspiration that graced her skin and hear the soft groans of pleasure that she was unable to contain.

Once again, he dipped his fingers between her legs. She was moist and welcoming. Jack was aware that he was nearing the end of his own control. He unbuttoned his pants and his erection sprung free. Deliberately, he let his member brush against her backside before sliding it between her thighs and rocking back and forth. He was careful not to actually enter her. In a taunting voice, he asked her, "I thought you said that this was neither the time nor place? Perhaps we should stop. What do you think, Valentine?"

Val could not stop herself from wiggling her hips in entreaty. In a voice weakened by desire, she panted, "Damn you Jack, stop teasing. If you don't finish what you've started, I swear I shall turn you into a eunuch."

Jack grinned at her threat. "I wouldn't be doing that, if I were you, darling. Just think of all the pleasure you'd miss out on." He grasped her waist firmly and thrust into her. With only a few thrusts, they both reached their release.

After they both regained their equilibrium, Jack assisted Valentine back into an upright position. Once their state of dishabille had been repaired, Jack gently, almost reverently, kissed her and then whispered, "I don't know what I did to become such a lucky bastard, but whatever it was, I sure thank God for it." Then, because it was not in his nature to remain serious for too long, he added, 'Of course, it may be that you're the lucky one and I'm your reward."

Val swatted playfully at him. "You pirate! If anyone is a treasure around here, it certainly isn't you. You're bossy, egotistical, have atrocious manners, and…" Val was unable finish her list because her mouth was stopped in a delightfully distracting manner.

However, when Jack's hands began to stray once more, she wriggled out of his arms and straightened her clothing. "Enough of that, Jack. We really do have to get out there before either Millicent or Bertie come traipsing in here."

"More likely, that they'll end up killing each other."

Val smiled and shook her head. "I doubt that will occur. Of course, it is a possibility, but I should think it highly unlikely. I imagine that they will find something else to do with all of that misplaced passion."

Jack looked confused for a moment and then disbelieving. "You don't mean? Bertie and Millicent?"

Val laughed and patted his hand as she drew him out of the stable. With an air of condescension that only a loving wife can manage, she observed, "Men can be so thick at times."


	5. New Pleasures

Millicent turned her face into the sunshine and enjoyed the warmth washing across her skin. She smiled to herself as she realized, that if she kept up this sort of behavior, she would likely end up with freckles. A bubble of laughter escaped her lips, as she imagined what any one of the string of governesses that she had had while growing up would say about her current actions. Not only was she courting disaster by exposing her skin to the sun's harsh rays, but she was also sitting atop a horse, in the astride position, no less. To top it all off, she was wearing breeches: how absolutely unladylike. Of course, the breeches were hidden under her voluminous skirts for there was only so far that Millicent was willing to go in flouting society's rules.

These past few weeks had been full of compromises as Katherine, Elizabeth, and Valentine had pushed and prodded Millicent to evermore risky behavior. She had found that she had no stomach for sailing, so that particular venture had died a quick death.

Fencing proved to be an enjoyable, if somewhat taxing exercise. Millicent had discovered muscles that she never knew existed, but she was getting decidedly better with each lesson. While she would never be as good as Elizabeth or Katherine, she could hold her own against Val and even Ewan.

Reading novels had opened up whole new vistas of imagination for Millicent. When she had been restricted to school books and religious tracts, she had never been much of a reader. Now, most nights found her tucked into bed and devouring chapters by the flicker of candlelight. It was so bad, that the housekeeper had complained just the other day of how quickly the stock of candles was dwindling.

However, without a doubt, her favorite new pursuit was riding. The feel of power and control over such a great beast was intoxicating. Yet, at the same time, she felt one with the horse. Val had loaned her a handsome bay mare named Caramel, and Millicent had immediately fallen in love with the horse. It appeared as if the feeling was reciprocated, for Caramel had taken to whinnying in greeting every day as Millicent approached her stall. Val said that Millicent was a natural at riding, and, for one of the few times in her life, Millicent did not look for the hidden motive behind a compliment.

She had never felt so in charge of her life and her destiny, the experience was liberating. These past few weeks had been picture perfect, with the only blot on the horizon being Mr. Bertrand Sparrow. The man had held true to his word to dog her every step.

Millicent sat on the restless mare, lost in her thoughts. The truly worst thing about Mr. Sparrow's campaign was that the hostesses of Port Royal now thought of them as an unofficial couple, and more often than not, paired them off at functions. _No_, a nagging little voice in her head spoke up, _that is not the worst of it_. _The worst of it is that you have become more than a little fixated on what his kisses would be like. _

Telling the little voice in her head to be quiet, Millicent tried to distract herself by rearranging her skirts to fully cover the masculine attire that she wore underneath. This action made her think of the running battle that she and Val conducted over her insistence on only wearing the offending garment beneath a dress. Val found it silly, but Millicent could not completely shake free from years of etiquette training. Soon, however, the task was completed and her musings drifted back to one Mr. Bertrand Sparrow.

What was it about that man that left her feeling so breathless and anticipatory whenever she was in his presence? The annoying voice made a reappearance_. You know what it is. You've heard your new friends speak often enough of the delights of a bit of slap and tickle. You want to know what it would be like to have Bertrand Sparrow caress and kiss you._

Millicent could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. Darn it, she did _not_ want to know what it would be like. She did not even find the irritating man the least bit attractive. _Yes you do. _Impatiently, Millicent snapped, "Just go away and leave me alone. I don't wish to hear your opinion on the issue."

A lazy voice answered her, "Well now, I think that you have just beaten your own record, duchess. You've managed to insult and dismiss me, before I've even opened my mouth. Become a mind reader, have you?'

Startled, Millicent quickly turned in the saddle to ascertain if this truly was a real voice or yet another figure of her imagination. No, it was not her imagination. Standing a few feet behind her was the very man that she had just been thinking about. She felt her flush deepen and silently chided herself to stop being a nincompoop. There was no way for him to know the direction her thoughts had taken.

"Good morning, Mr. Sparrow. I trust that you are here to see your cousin. How unfortunate that you've missed him. Valentine told me he has gone into town. It seems as if you've made a trip for nothing."

"Actually, Jack is here. I met up with him and he invited me back to discuss some issues with his estate."

"Really? I must say that I am surprised to see you up and about so early in the day. Rumor has it, that most nights, your nocturnal activities keep you busy until nearly dawn." Millicent was astonished at her own audacity in referring to such scandalous gossip. But she had heard the whispers, and wanted him to know that she was aware of his inexcusably boorish behavior.

Bertie just stood quietly assessing Millicent and her demeanor. He could almost swear that he heard a note of jealousy in her voice. Yet, why would she be jealous? She had made it clear on a variety of occasions that she felt him beneath her notice. He was unsure of how to reply to her insinuations. After all, proper young woman weren't to know of such things, let alone refer to them in conversation with a male. Further complicating the issue was that there was more than a grain of truth to her assertions. He had spent many an evening this past month at a local brothel sampling the wares.

Sampling and in most cases, rejecting. He could not figure out what the hell was the matter with him. He usually was man who whole heartedly enjoyed women and the pleasures of the flesh, but lately he had found that such activities palled.

Caramel, tired of standing still and waiting, whinnied and danced an impatient little side step. It took a moment for Millicent to regain command and calm the horse down. Bertie nearly got stepped on and had to jump out of the way.

Annoyed at the direction that his own thoughts had taken, Bertie bit out, "You could have injured me. I would suggest, duchess, that you dismount if you can not handle your horse properly."

"Unable to handle my horse? I'll have you know that I am an excellent horsewoman, Bertie Sparrow."

Bertie snorted in disbelief. "With only a few weeks worth of lessons? I am surprised that you manage to keep your seat."

Millicent glared down at him. She would show him. How dare he question her ability? "See that hedge over there?"

Bertie followed her pointed finger and saw a hedge. He was about to make a sarcastic comment regarding the change of topic, when it dawned on him why she had pointed it out. "Do not even think about it, Miss Witherspoon. That would be an extremely foolish thing to do. Now, get down off of that horse." He stepped forward to grab the reins but Millicent jerked on them and pulled Caramel out of his reach.

Doubling back a bit to get a good running start, she shot a triumphant look at Bertie and then dug her heels into Caramel's flanks. The horse took off at a full gallop.

Millicent reveled in the feel of the wind against her face and in her hair. There was nothing more exhilarating in the world than galloping full speed. She steered Caramel towards the center of the greenery. This should be a piece of cake, during the last week Val had had her jumping many hedges, some even taller than this one.

As expected, Caramel took the obstacle with ease and Millicent let out a whoop of triumph. Unfortunately, not as expected was the mud puddle on the other side. The horse lost its footing and slid a bit. Despite her valiant attempts to remain in the saddle, Millicent felt herself falling.

From his vantage point, Bertie watched the events unfold, swearing under his breath as he saw her ready for the jump. He let out a sigh of relief when she appeared to land safely but that quickly turned to a curse when she suddenly disappeared from view. He took off at a full run towards her and soon reached the wall of leaves. Forcing a hole and pushing his way through, he was greeted by the sight of Millicent sitting in the middle of mud puddle, hunched forward with her shoulders shaking.

Heedless of the damage he was doing his clothes, he went to her side and knelt to ascertain how badly she was hurt. The choked sounds emitting from her, implied that she was severely injured.

"Millicent, where are you hurt? Come; let me see if you are bleeding." Bertie gently unwrapped her arms from her knees and forced her head up. Prepared for the worst, he was taken aback by what he saw. The damned woman wasn't crying as he expected, she was laughing!

"Oh, that was absolutely glorious. Of course, I could have done without the puddle. See, I told you that I am an excellent horsewoman. If it hadn't been for this dratted mud, I would have had no problems."

Bertie could not believe what he was hearing. The stupid silly little girl could have hurt or even maimed herself, and here she was laughing and crowing in triumph. Roughly, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, telling her exactly what he thought of her reckless stunt.

Millicent was in far too high of spirits to allow him to alter her mood. She waited patiently for him to run out of steam and then just gave him a dazzling smile. "You know something Mr. Sparrow, you are entirely too serious, a regular stick in the mud." Her eyes lit up with a mischievous glint and then she added, "And since you are such a stick in the mud, it is only fitting that you wear some." With these words, Millicent reached down, scooped up a handful of mud, and launched it directly in his face.

As he blinked away some of the mud, Bertie felt the fear and relief of the last few minutes mutate into a fine rage. Not trusting himself to touch her anymore, he pulled his hands from her shoulders and balled them into fists. Clenching and clenching both his hands and jaw, he took several deep breaths to steady himself.

Watching his struggle for control, Millicent guessed that she had made a tactical error by throwing the mud. Still, she could not stifle the giggles that his now disheveled image evoked. When she thought about how she must look, she laughed even harder.

Bertie was surprised when his fiercest glare did nothing to diminish her merriment, if anything, it increased. Clasping her chin, he stared directly into her face intending to deliver a further verbal thrashing. He even opened his mouth to deliver the scathing comments, but that all changed when he noted the streak of mud down her nose. In spite of himself, he felt his lips quirk into a reluctant smile. This was followed by an involuntary laugh. Next thing he knew, they were both guffawing so hard that tears ran down their faces. Finally, they both calmed down and an awkward silence descended.

"I am sorry if I frightened you. I really did not intend to fall off."

Dryly, he answered her, "Yes, I had managed to gather that much all on my own. However, I do believe that the mud slinging was intentional."

Millicent cocked an eyebrow and inquired, "The verbal or the literal?" She felt a frisson of alarm run through her at the thought of how provocative and flirtatious she was being.

Bertie did not deign to reply. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a clean handkerchief. "Here, allow me. You have a streak of mud down your nose." He leaned forward and carefully dabbed away the dirt. As he did so, the tension between the two of them swelled to uncomfortable proportions.

He could not help but notice how rosy and inviting her lips were, and she could not help but wonder why he could not seem to tear his gaze from her mouth.

When he had finished with wiping the smudges from her face, he ran the cloth over his own. Millicent decided that it was time to break the spell that had fallen over both of them. "Mr. Sparrow, I should like to …"

Her wishes were never vocalized. With a muttered, "Ah hell, duchess," Bertie covered Millicent's mouth with his own. He meant to make it a light superficial kiss, a quick peck. But when his lips made contact with hers, all rational thought flew out the window. He had to have more of her. More to taste. More to touch. He pulled her onto his lap and cradled her head, holding it still so that he could pillage and plunder to his heart's content.

Millicent was in turmoil. She had dreamt of this, but never in this manner. Bertie was invading and demanding and pushing her further than any man ever had, and yet she had no will to call a halt to things. Truth be told, she was enjoying herself. She waited for the usual sense of ennui to grip her, but it did not come. Instead, she found a burgeoning desire growing inside her. Of their own accord, her arms wound about his neck and attempted to pull him even closer.

Millicent could feel all of her inhibitions falling away. Boldly, she began to meet the searching thrusts of his tongue and was gratified when she heard him utter a low moan of desire. Flushed with this victory, she began to let her hands drift across his back, enjoying the feel of his tense muscles through the layers of clothes. When Bertie began to return the favor and allow his fingers to brush tantalizingly across her breasts, Millicent thought that she would die from the pleasure of it all.

Then, with the brutality of an ice cold bucket of water, a dry voice sounded wryly, "Do forgive me. I hope that I am not interrupting anything too important."


	6. Travel Plans

For a room filled with four dynamic men, the atmosphere was surprisingly subdued. Not a word had been spoken for over quarter an hour. Each man was lost in his own thoughts and none were willing to share these private musings.

Jack was reliving this morning's events in the barn. He still marveled at his fortune in securing the affections of a woman like Valentine, a woman who not only accepted his unconventional behavior but enthusiastically embraced it. His future might not be what he had planned; however with Valentine he would be able to stomach the necessary social obligations.

Will was still somewhat in shock from the news that Elizabeth had casually delivered across the breakfast table. Another child, they were going to have another child. Will was not certain whether he was overjoyed by this prospect or terrified at yet again enduring months of anticipation and worry. Certainly little Pearl had been worth the trial, but the thought of once again living through the process was daunting.

James was busy eagerly anticipating delivering the news to Kat regarding Bertie and Miss Witherspoon. At the Christmas Ball, Kat had said that she had someone in mind for Bertie. But she had made that statement before the young woman had been befriended by Kat, Val, and Elizabeth. James would bet one hundred pounds sterling that Kat had not been referring to Millicent. He planned on taking great delight in teasing Kat about her supposed matchmaking talents. James decided that he would broach the topic at dinner and let drop a few vague hints that he had seen Bertie express an interest in someone. After all, Kat had the most delightful methods of trying to extract information from him.

Bertie was obsessively rehashing and analyzing every detail of his and Millicent's encounter in the mud. What the hell had he been playing at? He knew better than to dally with young unmarried women for they always took things far too seriously. If he was not careful, he would soon have an irate father demanding satisfaction. Bertie shuddered at the thought of being forced to wed Millicent. Yet, at the same time a small smile crossed his face. There would be some benefits, chiefly those to be found in the marital bed. Jack had dismissed Miss Witherspoon as a passionless porcelain doll, but Bertie had tasted just how much passion Millicent was capable of. Thank the Lord that James had interrupted them, or they would have been well and truly caught in the parson's mousetrap. Bertie had no doubts that, if left to their own inclinations and with no one to stop them, neither he nor Millicent would have called a halt to matters before things had progressed beyond the point of no return.

This conclusion made clear what his next step should be. After refilling his and the other gentlemen's glasses, Bertie declared his intentions. "Jack, I have been thinking. My business here is concluded and it's past time that I headed home."

"Seems a bit hasty to me, cousin. Not like you to run away in fear from a woman. Can it be that you've finally met your match?" Jack was brimming over with glee at the thought of Bertie being ensnared. Of course, he would have preferred someone other than Miss Witherspoon. Still, beggars could not be choosers.

Bertie directed an accusatory glance at James. James merely shrugged and shook his head as if to say, "_It wasn't me that told him_."

Jack correctly read the interchange. "Don't go blaming the commodore. He did not say a word. I wasn't born yesterday, mate. When you and the lovely Millicent both turn up covered in mud and looking as if you'd been denied a particularly tasty treat, a man would have to be dumb and blind not to be able to figure it out. What happened? You try to lift her skirts for a quick tumble and dear old James interrupted?" Jack neglected to mention that the only reason he had any inkling of what had occurred was because of Valentine's comment earlier in the day.

Bertie slammed his glass down and growled, "Leave it, Jack. It's none of your bloody business and you would do well to be a bit more respectful when talking of Miss Witherspoon."

All four men were surprised by the vehemence of his words. Jack, James, and Will wisely chose to withhold further comment. Each was of the opinion that not only was Bertie obviously in no mood to be teased on the subject, but that Bertie was also most likely unaware of what his outburst portended.

For his part, Bertie was mystified by his ire on behalf of Miss Witherspoon. His desire to throttle Jack for speaking so disrespectfully of Millicent made no sense, for it was not as if he cared at all about the spoiled chit. Lust was all he felt for her. Good old fashioned lust. And if she hadn't been born a gentlewoman, he would have already slaked that lust.

Ever the peacemaker, James changed the topic, "When were you thinking of leaving Bertie? I have some financial matters that need attending to and was thinking of making the journey myself. Also, Kat hasn't seen her mother since before our marriage. I think it's high time for a visit. Would you care for some company on your journey?"

Grateful for the diversion, Bertie smiled and readily agreed, "That would be very welcome. Crossings are always so interminably boring. Having you and Katherine along would certainly make the trip more pleasurable."

Jack smiled lazily and finished off his drink. "Now that's an idea. I have to make peace with the old pater some time and it would be easier with a bit of moral support. Besides, my missus and the commodore's missus are nigh on inseparable. I think we'll join you. What say you young Will, you and the old ball and chain up for a bit of adventure?"

Will looked abashed and actually blushed a bit. He had promised Elizabeth that he would keep their news secret but he could no longer restrain himself. "I'm afraid that we'll have to join you another time. Elizabeth's delicate state won't allow for an ocean crossing."

There was a moment of silence as the other three men deciphered this information. Then Jack jumped up and went to grab a bottle of rum. "Another baby? I love babies. Drinks all around."

* * *

Valentine commended herself on the restraint that she had shown for the past few hours. Upon seeing Bertie and Millicent straggle back to the house covered in mud and obviously worse for wear, she had held her tongue. In fact, she had not breathed one word of the incident during the intervening four hours. Now, however, Millicent was getting ready to leave and Val could no longer resist inquiring about what had occurred.

"Millicent, don't you have something to share with the rest of us. Perhaps, something concerning a Mr. Bertrand Sparrow?"

Millicent felt the flush heat her cheeks. All afternoon she had only been able to half attend to conversation, for images of what had happened had kept flashing through her mind. Good God, she had behaved wantonly. If it hadn't been for Commodore Norrington's timely interruption, there was no telling how far things would have progressed.

Kat and Elizabeth smelling good gossip eagerly leaned forward. They had wondered how long it would take for that particular pot to boil over.

"There's not that much to tell. Mr. Sparrow… that is Bertie and I… well we fought abut my riding ability. The man had the nerve to order me down from my horse." Millicent was finding telling the story more difficult than she would have imagined. Still, she did want to hear what the other, more experienced women, had to say about what had transpired. "Well anyway, I fell and he rushed to my side. The next thing I knew, we were kissing. But that's not the worst of it."

Elizabeth obligingly inquired, "What was the worst of it?"

"I enjoyed it!" Millicent's heartfelt wail caused the others to chuckle. "It's not at all funny. He is totally unsuitable and I don't even like him."

Kat managed to stifle her mirth. "Millicent, liking and desire often have very little to do with another. Take my advice and don't worry over a kiss. More likely than not, it was an aberration that neither of you will be keen to repeat."

"Do you really think so?" Though doubtful, Millicent was eager to accept this causal dismissal of what had seemed a momentous event.

"I'm almost certain. Now, I believe that you had better be on your way before your father misses you and begins to worry."

Several minutes later, after Millicent had been hastily sent on her way, Kat demanded of Val, "Tell us all that you know."

"I really did not see much. They both were covered in mud and it was evident from the streaks that a fair amount of fondling had occurred. Your husband is the one that found them, why don't you ask him?"

"Oh no, I would never give him the upper hand like that. He always lords it over me when he has information that I don't have. Anyway, I believe that we have enough to go on. It appears to me as if the two are smitten with each other."

"That may be, but with each so stubborn how do propose to bring them together?" Elizabeth was curious to learn what sort of plot Kat had in mind. But before her curiosity could be satisfied, Val interrupted.

"It makes no difference one way or the other. I spoke with Bertie yesterday; he is planning on heading back to England next week. There is not enough time for anything serious to develop between the two of them."

This announcement silenced the room. Each of the three women was busy contemplating the obstacle to their machinations. Then the silence was shattered when Kat began to laugh delightedly and clap her hands.

"I have it. I have the perfect solution. We shall just have to follow Bertie to England."

A sly grin snuck across Val's face. "You know, Jack really does need to make his peace with his father and learn about his inheritance. The only feasible way to do so is for him to make a trip to England. Of course, I could not bear to be parted from him for so long, so I should have to accompany him."

An equally sly grin graced Kat's countenance. "And James has business that he needs to attend to in London. I have not seen my mother since before our marriage therefore it is only natural for me to join him. And certainly, the only truly gracious thing to do would be to ask Mr. Witherspoon if he would allow his daughter to join us on the trip. We could act as her chaperones and she could have a proper season. I bet that he would agree, for it would mean a much better chance of an advantageous marriage."

Val took a few moments to replace the teapot with a bottle of brandy. After liberally pouring a measure into all of their cups, she asked, "What do you think, Elizabeth? Can you persuade Will into making the journey?"

"I am afraid that I shall have to decline. Traveling is not a good idea at the moment." Elizabeth waited for the penny to drop, and when she saw that it had she confirmed, "Yes. Will and I are expecting another child."

After many celebratory toasts, Kat put down her cup and sighed fretfully.

"Kat, what's wrong?"

"Val, I was just thinking about what you said concerning Elizabeth persuading Will to make the journey. However am I going to convince James to do so? He can be infuriatingly mule headed when he thinks I am interfering in something that is none of my business."

The sly grin once again appeared and Val chuckled throatily. "I often find that the marital bed is a very good place to begin such negotiations. I know that I plan to use this arena to coerce Jack. I've done so in the past and it has worked every time."

Despite the many confidences that the three women had shared, Kat felt herself blush. "You mean that I ought to…? Well, I suppose that could work. Well, why not? I shall certainly give it my best attempt. If James does not agree, it will not be for lack of trying on my part."

With the issue settled, Val, Kat, and Elizabeth fell into making plans concerning both the proposed journey and the upcoming blessed event.


	7. Persuasion

Jack and Val lay entwined in each other's embrace. They had spent the evening making love in a variety of locations and positions. Jack secretly grinned to himself. From the manner in which Valentine had greeted him at dinner, he had known that something was up. Yet, since he always found her methods of persuasion very agreeable, he had played along.

When Valentine had proposed the journey to England, he had pretended to be reluctant. This had resulted in a night of Valentine using her abundant physical charms to change his mind. Finally, he had 'given in' to her request. This magnanimous concession of his had led to the round of energetic lovemaking that they had just completed. Jack was exhausted but well sated.

"Thank you, Jack. I know that you are reluctant but I am certain that you will enjoy the holiday."

"Now that's debatable, sweetheart. Seeing as my father is not high on my list of favorite people, but it's unavoidable."

Val snuggled closer and yawned sleepily. "Everything will work out for the best, my love. It's long past time to face your demons."

Jack nuzzled at her hair and wrapped her more tightly in his arms. He loved this woman beyond reason, beyond even the treasures that he had once so avidly sought. Once again, he gave thanks to whatever God might be listening. This trip back home was not what he considered a desirable activity; there was too much past acrimony and unfinished business between him and his father. But with Valentine to accompany him, it might at least be tolerable. His father would like her and that might help to smooth things over. And even if his father remained unforgiving, he would be able to weather the storm because Valentine would be there to console him. With this comforting thought, Jack drifted off into a contented sleep.

Val felt Jack's chest settle into the steady rhythm of sleep. She could feel herself following his example. The last thought before she lost consciousness was, _I wonder if Katherine's night was as successful._

* * *

Katherine chewed on her lip as she debated the gowns laid out before her. If she was going to take Val's advice about using the marital bed as a bargaining arena, then she wanted to look as fetching as possible at dinner tonight. It was a difficult choice to make because James had commented positively on all four gowns. Actually, James always commented on all of the dresses that she wore, but these four had brought a particular sparkle to his eyes.

After a few more minutes of deliberation, she settled on the emerald green gown. It had the most daring décolletage of the bunch and possessed the added advantage of sentimental value. It was the gown that she was wearing the first time that James had truly looked at her as a desirable woman. Katherine had not worn it again since that evening, but tonight it would serve a good cause.

A few hours worth of primping and fussing and Katherine deemed that she was as ready as she would ever be. Her maid's assurance that she "looked as pretty as a picture" only slightly boosted her confidence.

She made her way downstairs await James in the parlor. Pouring herself a large measure of brandy, she sipped at it in an attempt to calm her nerves. Her skittishness made no rational sense for she and James had long passed any false modesty regarding the physical aspects of their marriage. However, it was one thing to engage in acts and another to discuss them. Katherine could not help but question if Val was right to suggest this method of obtaining her goal.

James strolled into the room just as she drained the last of her brandy. He was in an exceedingly good mood which helped to alleviate some of Katherine's worry. Dinner passed in an enjoyable manner with James exhibiting more loquaciousness than usual. Several times he commented upon the fact that all of his favorite dishes had been served and Katherine had to conceal a small smile. She was going to try Val's methods, but it did not hurt to follow the adage about the way to a man's heart being through his stomach. Besides, good food always mellowed James and made him more amenable to suggestion.

It was as they were finishing dessert that Katherine broached the subject. "James, I have a request to make of you. It's really rather a minor one."

James carefully set his fork down and looked at his wife with a suspicious eye. So now he knew what was behind the food and the gown. She was buttering him up for something. Smiling, he admitted to himself that he really did not mind her methods overmuch. He was pretty certain that she was going to wheedle for more information regarding his interruption of Bertie and Miss Witherspoon. "Yes, Kat, what is it that can I do for you?"

"Well, James, I would like you to consider the possibility of us going to England for an extended holiday. I have not been home since coming to Port Royal, and I know that you have some financial matters that need attending to, and I am certain that your mother would love to see you, since it has been over a year since she last saw us." Kat took a moment to catch her breath after blurting out all of her well planned arguments in one long rush of air.

James' lips quirked in amusement. It was not what he had expected, but, it was obvious from all of the trouble that she had gone to, this request meant a great deal to Kat. He was happy that it was such an easy one to grant. James decided to torment his wife a little bit.

"I am rather afraid Kat, that it is out of the question that I should give _consideration _to such a request." James could barely restrain his laughter. He told himself that his statement was indeed the literal truth. There was no consideration to be given because the decision had been made earlier that very day. He wondered exactly how much effort Kat was willing to put into swaying him to agree to her proposal. Considering the efforts that she had already made and her choice of gown, the evening looked promising.

At James' flat out refusal to even entertain the idea, Kat sighed. Now she had no choice but to utilize Val's strategy. She had hoped that it would not come to this point, but it had. Deliberately she slowly traced her index finger across the lace that framed the low neckline of her dress and was gratified at his swift intake of breath. Perhaps, Val had been correct. "Are you certain that you won't reconsider?"

"No, my dearest. There is very little chance of me reconsidering my position regarding us journeying to England." James leaned back into his chair and waited to see what she would do next. After a few moments silence, he suggested, "Perhaps, you should try to persuade me?" James was feeling unusually cocky and sure of himself. Today had been a good day and it was entertaining, teasing his lovely wife. The entertainment was all the greater because he knew the outcome of this little game.

Katherine drew herself up and took a deep fortifying breath. "Then I am afraid that you leave me no choice in the matter, James. Until you are willing to take my wishes, my very reasonable wishes, into account, there shall be no marital relations."

Not quite believing what he had just heard, James stared at her in open mouthed wonder. _She could not be serious! _The determined angle of her jaw revealed that, yes, Kat was very serious about this ultimatum. James felt all traces of his earlier good humor vanish. His breathing became shallow and his hands clenched into tight fists. _How dare she use this sort of tactic with him?_ He had heard of other wives utilizing it, but he had thought Kat's and his marriage above such games.

The scraping of his chair sounded loudly in the room, as he pushed back from the table and stood up. He needed to leave before his ire drove him to say or do something foolish. In an icily polite voice, which his men would have recognized as signaling danger, James clipped out, "Very well, suit yourself, madam. When you come to your senses, inform me. Until that time I do not believe that we have much to say to one another. I shall be spending the night at the fort."

Katherine watched helplessly as James strode from the room. He looked so very angry. The frigidness of his glare had been unnerving. She was tempted to give chase and throw herself on his mercy, but she forced herself to remain seated. Val had not mentioned how quickly she should expect results. Perhaps he just needed more time? Yes, that was the answer. James just needed a bit of time to think things over and then he would accede to her request.

Later that night, as Katherine climbed into the cold empty bed, she realized that it was the first night that they would spend apart since consummating their marriage. Silently she said a prayer that James would not prove to be too stubborn, for she was not sure of how long she could hold out.


	8. Misunderstandings

"Which color do you think? The blue is lovely, but I think that the violet is a bit more flattering. I should have ordered the violet."

Val watched as Katherine, indecision written on her face, fingered the material. Val smiled and wondered why Katherine was so unsure of herself today. Usually, Katherine made decisions in the blink of an eye, but today she seemed incapable of even the smallest of choices. They were busy making preparations for their forthcoming voyage, even though Katherine reported that James had yet to agree to the trip.

"Whatever is the matter with you today? This is the third time that you've questioned your purchases. It's not like you to doubt your decisions."

Katherine pondered Val's words for a moment and then discarded the material, surreptitiously glancing at the small doorway at the back of the dressmaker's shop. Grabbing Val by the hand, she pulled her to the corner furthest away from the entry and whispered, "Val, exactly how long should I expect to have to continue this, before James changes his mind? He is being remarkably stubborn. It's been four nights, and I am growing tired from my efforts. I long for a night of peaceful slumber."

Val choked back a snort of laughter at this confession. Evidently, James was milking the situation for all it was worth. She would not have thought him the type, perhaps Jack was rubbing off on him. "Don't worry about it, Katherine. I'm sure that he'll agree soon enough. He is just enjoying the perks of making you work for his gracious assent." A bit of lace caught Val's eye and she picked it up, wondering how it would look at the neckline.

Katherine scowled and complained, "Why is he being so difficult? I would have thought that one night would have been more than enough. The dratted man is making it impossible for me to sleep properly. I miss having him next to me."

Distractedly, Val murmured, "Mmhnn, just be patient, Katherine. James is an intelligent man; he has to know that you will not keep catering to his desires forever. Soon enough, he'll give you the answer that you want. That is, if wants to be able to experience this sort of persuasion again."

There was a momentary lull in the conversation and then both women started speaking at the same time.

"What do you _mean_, you miss him?"

"Val, why would he want to experience this again?"

Val's jaw dropped and she stared aghast at her friend. Closing her eyes for a moment, she fervently prayed that her suspicions were unfounded. The lace fell unnoticed back onto the table. "Katherine, how exactly have you been attempting to persuade James?"

"I have followed your suggestion, Val. I told him that there would be no marital relations until he consented to the journey."

"_You what?" _Katherine loudly shrieked.

When the seamstress poked her head out of the back room to see what the commotion was all about, Val regained her composure and gave a sheepish smile, "I'm sorry about that, Mrs. Eally. We were just discussing what shoes Katherine plans to pair with her blue dress."

Mrs. Eally spared them both a bemused smile and once again disappeared behind the door.

Frantically, Katherine whispered, "I just did what you told me to do. The whole thing would not be so very bad, but he's taken to sleeping at the fort. I must say, I am surprised at how childishly he is acting."

Groaning, Val covered her face with her hands. After a few moments, the groans turned to laughter, and soon she was clutching her sides with tears running down her face.

Katherine watched her friend's antics and grew a bit miffed. "I fail to see what is so amusing about the situation. I daresay that you gave me bad advice." She waited impatiently as Val calmed down and regained her breath.

"Katherine, I'm afraid that you misunderstood my meaning. I meant that you should … well, you should…that is to say… I meant that you should pleasure James in bed, not ban him from it. No wonder he has yet to agree. Honestly, I'm amazed that he has not throttled you."

A chill of dread ran down Katherine's spine, as the implications of Val's words sank in. Dear lord, she had really muffed this one. And, if she knew James, he was going to extract a heavy payment for her error. "Val, what am I going to do? Now, he'll never agree to the trip."

Val debated for a moment about the wisdom of breaking a confidence. Three days ago, Jack had revealed that James had purchased tickets for the voyage. Since she had assumed that James was just having a bit of fun at his wife's expense, Val had not disclosed this information to Katherine. After all, persuasion could be enjoyable for all of the concerned parties. Now that she knew the truth of the matter, it was a different story.

"Katherine, I shouldn't worry about the journey if I were you. James has already made arrangements. I think that your bigger concern is sorting out this misunderstanding."

At this news, Katherine was torn between relief and outrage. Momentarily, outrage won. "You mean he intended on going all along? The nerve of him. And you. You are supposed to be my friend, how could you keep this news from me?"

Dryly, Val answered her accusations, "Well, I did rather think that you were engaged in enjoyable activities. I had no idea that you had gotten the wrong end of the stick. Besides, I think that your biggest priority right now should be making your peace with James."

Calming down, Katherine worriedly bit at her lip. She could still hear and almost physically feel the coldness James' parting words, _"Very well, suit yourself, madam. When you come to your senses, inform me." _

"You are right, of course, Val. How am I ever going to get him to forgive me? "

Val thought about it for a moment and then gave a sly wink. "This time you will just have to use the _right_ methods of persuasion. Now, where on earth has Millicent gotten to? She said that she just wanted a few minutes of fresh air."

* * *

Millicent slowly strolled back and forth down the dusty street. For the first time that she could ever recall, purchasing new clothing had left her bored. Perhaps it was because she already owned trunks full of clothing. Perhaps it was because the dressmaker had no new wares to offer. Or, perhaps it was because, for the last few days, all that she could think about was Mr. Bertrand Sparrow's kiss. Even the exciting prospect of a season in London had not been able to dislodge her fixation. 

Millicent decided that she hated him. She hated him for making her feel things that she did not want to feel. She hated him for introducing her to pleasures that could never be sated. Bertrand was obviously a poor relation of Jack, and she was not going to settle for marriage to a poor relation. Of course, that was assuming that he would even offer marriage. A gentleman would have already done so, after taking the liberties that he had with her person.

But Bertrand was obviously no gentleman, as attested to by his not only omitting to proffer the obligatory proposal, but also his complete avoidance of her these past few days. Millicent stopped and stamped her foot in frustrated acknowledgment that she had keenly missed his constant presence by her side. She had grown accustomed to sparring with him at social events, and now found evenings dull. As she was fuming over the injustice of her situation, a hand reached out from the alley and yanked her into the shadows.

From the anonymity of the darkened alley, Bertie had been watching Miss Witherspoon for the past half hour, and debating with himself about approaching her. He had to admit that it really was quite cute the way she stomped around and muttered under her breath. He wondered what had her in such a snit, most likely she'd failed to get her way in something. Not for the first time, he asked himself why he was so attracted to the brat. Kissing her had been a major mistake. But, now that he knew the taste of her, he wanted more. Bertie silently cursed himself, even as he reached his hand out to grab her.

With a muffled, "Ooohmp!", Millicent suddenly found herself plastered against the chest of the very object of her thoughts. She blinked and noticed that he seemed just as surprised as she, to suddenly find herself in his embrace.

"What are you doing, you barbarian? "

"It's no good, duchess. I've tried staying away, but I'm damned if I can." Bertie maneuvered her further into the dark alley, so that any stray pedestrians would walk by unaware of their presence.

"Bertrand Sparrow, you can not simply yank me into dark corners, and expect me to like it. I insist that you let me go." Millicent made the mistake of looking into his eyes and reading the hunger there. Her words grew weaker, "I mean, _really_, this kind of thing just isn't done. You don't speak to me for days, and then you decide to assault me. I will not consort with a man of your social status. I can do better." By the time she reached the end of her protest, Millicent's words were mere whispers.

Millicent's insults destroyed the last remnants of Bertie's control and lit the fuse of his anger. "Is that so, _duchess_? Then try topping this with one of your approved beaus." He pulled her closer and roughly covered her mouth with his own.

This time he made no allowances for her obvious inexperience. Last time he had asked before taking, this time he just took. When she tried to protest, he used the opportunity to push past her lips and take even more.

Millicent felt as if her senses were being overwhelmed: sight, taste, and touch were filled with Bertrand Sparrow. When he emitted a small moan of desire, Millicent added sound to the list. His lips gave no quarter and she had no choice but to surrender what he demanded. Frankly, she had no desire to fight the invasion. Her breathing became labored and she clutched at his shoulders to support her unsteady legs.

Bertie roughly pushed Millicent back against the brick wall and leaned into her. He could feel the warmth of body and the erratic beating of her heart. One hand found its way to a breast and began kneading and stroking, drawing out the tip and lightly pinching it between his fingers. The other hand found her skirts and began hiking them up.

Feeling completely overwhelmed by the sensations that Bertie was eliciting, Millicent allowed herself to be swept away in a tide of desire. She could feel her body began to thrum with unmet demands. When Bertie's hand worked its way beneath her skirts, she felt no maidenly resistance, only an urgency to know what was to follow. As his hand began to caress her inner thigh, Millicent felt a wave of heat rush to the juncture between her legs, unconsciously she thrust her hips forward in mute appeal.

Bertie read the silent plea and was just about to fulfill the request, when the sound of passing feet drew him back into awareness of his surroundings. ._My god, he was an idiot. An idiot, a cad, and a lecher._ He was minutes away from taking this young woman up against a wall. In a public alley! Slowly and reluctantly, he withdrew his hand and smoothed her skirts down. When he pulled his lips and body from hers, she made a soft sound of protest.

For several minutes, they perched on the verge of jumping back into each other's arms.

The two of them continued to eye each other with a mixture of desire and burgeoning horror. Neither one knew what to say about their recent activities.

Millicent twisted the fabric of her skirts in her fists. Her experiences in life had not prepared her to handle situations like this one. It was not as if governesses taught young ladies what to say when they had just nearly been ravished ten feet from a public thoroughfare. Forcing herself to break the uncomfortable spell, she stepped around Bertie. She wanted to make a dignified retreat and leave him standing there, without uttering another word to him. However, temptation proved irresistible, and she could not refrain from saying, "I would appreciate it, Mr. Sparrow, if you would keep this incident to yourself. We would not wish to be forced into a union."

Although she had only spoken the very same thoughts that he had, Bertie felt his hackles rise at her cool dismissal and haughty tone. Strangely, he also felt a twinge of hurt and this lent an acidic quality to his reply. "Don't worry over it, _duchess_. I won't interfere with your plans to marry a wealthy and titled gentleman. I hope the cold hard coinage of his purse keeps you warm at night. But then again, it will only match the coldness of your mercenary little heart. Think of this afternoon as my contribution to your wedding night. A little something to contemplate about, as you lay back and think of England."

Stunned by the vitriol of his words, Millicent felt the tears begin to well up. Rapidly she blinked, and in vain tried to keep them from falling. Jerkily, she stepped forward and delivered a resounding slap to his right cheek. They both just stared at each other for a moment, before Millicent turned and fled, tears running freely down her face.


	9. Debts

Bertie threw back another glass of rum and savored the feel as the liquid left a burning trail down his throat. He had long ago lost count of how many drinks he had drunk. All he knew was that he was more pissed than he had ever been, and yet the reason for his drinking still remained at the forefront of his mind.

It was not even mid afternoon and already more than half a bottle of rum was gone. At this rate, he would have to send out for more. He congratulated himself on having the decency to confine himself to his rooms, rather than inflict himself on the general public. He was, after all, a gentleman, and gentlemen did not go about in public soused to the gills. _Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Miss Witherspoon._

Bertie laughed out loud as he imagined what Miss Witherspoon's response would be if he made such a comment to her. But the laughter quickly died as he recalled the look on her face earlier today. Damn it. He should not have made those last comments to her. They had not merely been mean; they had crossed the line into cruelty. He wasn't usually a cruel man. There was just something about Miss Witherspoon that pushed all of his buttons. Something that made it impossible for him to keep his distance and a calm demeanor when she was around. Thank goodness it was less than a fortnight before he sailed back to England. Distance was what he needed to gain perspective on this matter.

Pouring himself another glass of rum, Bertie thought about how much more pleasant the voyage would be this time. With friends on board, the weeks would not drag by so very slowly. Still, he knew that, after only a few days, the confinement of the ship would begin to grate on his nerves. How Jack enjoyed being shipboard for months at a time mystified Bertie. There were many things that he and his cousin shared in common; a love of sailing was not one of them.

* * *

Katherine hesitated outside the door to James' office. Perhaps visiting him at the fort was not the wisest course of action? But if she did not seek him out here, it might be days before she saw him. He had certainly been avoiding home enough the last four days. Besides, facing the lion in this den made sense. James would most certainly want to keep things on a calm and rational plane with his men being only a closed door away. 

Smoothing her hair and pinching her cheeks for much needed color, Katherine took a fortifying breath and then opened the door and briskly walked inside the office.

"Just set the charts down on the table. I'll get to them in a moment. Thank you. " James did not bother looking up from the document that he was reading.

Nervously, Katherine cleared her throat. "Um, actually, I did not bring any charts, James. It's me, Katherine."

Slowly, James put down the papers and leaned back in his chair. His gaze traveled the length of his wife, noting with delight that she appeared discomforted and unsure of herself. Good. It had taken her long enough to come to her senses. He had no intention of making this easy for her. Several nights spent on an uncomfortable cot had implanted a need for revenge. "Well, if it isn't my dear and loving wife. Come to pay your husband a friendly visit? Or, are you here to issue more ultimatums?"

Katherine bristled at his sarcastic tone but forced herself to swallow a nasty retort. This was not the time for her to take him to task. Her tongue darted out and nervously swiped at her dry lips. This was more difficult than she had imagined it would be. It was obvious that James was quite angry about the past few nights.

Stalling for time, Katherine walked around the room and pretended to examine the naval charts adorning the walls. _How was she supposed to begin her apology?_ All of the pretty speeches that she had rehearsed now seemed wrong and unlikely to derive a good result.

"James, I… that is to say that I was…"

"Excuse me, Katherine, but I can not hear you while you are facing the wall. Did you have something to say to me?" He was not going to allow her such a reprieve.

Katherine felt a flare of resentment at the smirk that she could hear in his voice. The rat was enjoying this whole thing far too much. She whirled around and shot him a baleful glare. "Fine. Is this better?"

James' mouth twitched in an involuntary smile that he quickly suppressed. "Much. Now did you have something important to tell me? I assume that you must, if you've taken the time to visit me here." James made a monumental effort to quell his laughter as he saw Katherine place her hands on her hips, a sure sign that her temper was near to boiling over.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Fine then. I was wrong to do what I did. There, you have had your apology. Now, you can explain to me why you kept from me your plans for us to travel to England."

James could no longer hold back his laughter and his amused chuckles filled the room. The sound served to infuriate Katherine.

"Stop laughing at me, James Norrington. You just stop being such an annoying, condescending prig!"

Katherine watched as James slowly rose from his chair and stalked towards her. There was no other word for what he was doing but stalking. He reminded her of a series of etchings she had once seen of a wild cat chasing some exotic animal that she could not recall the name of. Involuntarily, she felt herself backing away as he came closer. Soon her back hit a wall and she could retreat no further. She took refuge in staring at the floor and decided that perhaps a more placating tone might be necessary. "James, I am truly sorry about the last few nights."

James captured her chin in his hand and forced her to meet his eyes. "Really? Please do tell me _exactly _what you are sorry about."

A flutter of fear danced in her stomach as she read the mixture of amusement and annoyance in his eyes. James might be laughing at the moment, but very close to the surface was anger. "Well, I'm sorry that I acted in such a childish manner. I never should have should have done that."

"And what was it that you did, Katherine? Tell me in no uncertain terms, so I can be assured you are aware of the magnitude of your sins."

His demand caused her heart to plummet. Obviously, he wanted his pound of flesh. "It was wrong of me to use our marriage bed as a bargaining chip. I never should have issued that ultimatum."

"And what ultimatum was that?"

"You're really going to make me spell it all out?" His stony silence answered her question. "Very well, I never should have said that I would not sleep with you until you agreed to the journey. It was a silly and wrong headed thing to do and I regret it."

After finishing her piece, Katherine waited for a reply. When none was forthcoming, she blurted out, "It wasn't my idea. Val suggested it." At the raising of his eyebrow, she rushed on, "Well not exactly suggested it. I misunderstood. She meant that I should use the marital bed to pleasure you into agreeing. I just misunderstood. It was an easy error to make. James, you have to believe me!" The last came out as a wail when James dropped his hold on her chin and walked away.

Katherine silently watched as James comfortably settled himself in a chair, poured a cup of tea and took several sips. The moments slowly ticked by and Katherine's anxiety grew. Finally, James set the cup down. "So, it was all Valentine's fault that you acted in such a manner?"

"Yes. That is… no. James, I _misunderstood _what she was saying. I did think it odd but she is much older and wiser than me. Please, can't you see it was an innocent mistake on my part?"

"That is what Val said earlier today, when she came to plead your case."

"Val came here? Why didn't she tell me that she was going to see you? Then you must believe what I am saying." Katherine was dismayed to note James' countenance had not become one iota less forbidding. Damn it, he knew the truth. Why was he still so angry?

"Yes. I am aware of how the situation occurred. Obviously, you need to think things through more and clarify when you are uncertain of someone's meaning. However, given the circumstances, I forgive you for your harebrained stunt."

Relief washed through Katherine and she wanted to cross to him and sit down. But something held her pinned to the spot. It was something in the tone of his voice and the way in which he was gazing at her. He may have accepted her explanation, but he was still reserved in his manner.

Tentatively she queried, "Then we are back to normal? Everything is right between us?" She watched in disbelief as James lifted his feet and placed them on the low table in front of him, causing a bit of tea to slosh onto the table. _What on earth was he doing?_ James was never so cavalier and casual in his behavior.

With his low rumbling voice, James practically purred, "Oh, I would not say that, my dearest Kat. There is still the little matter of the past four nights. Four nights in which I spent hellishly uncomfortable hours on a hard and narrow cot. Four nights in which I was denied my husbandly privileges. That doesn't even account for the fact that what you were supposed to be doing was sating me with pleasure, not starving me."

Katherine shifted uncomfortably but bravely held his gaze. After all, she was in the wrong and did not have much of a defense to offer. Perhaps by being quiet and appearing contrite, she could manage to calm James enough to have him forgive her and let bygones be bygones. His next words dashed her hopes.

"I believe that reparations are in order, don't you?"

"Reparations?" The single word took a great deal of effort to force past her lips.

"Yes, my dear. _Reparations._ Starting right now." With that statement, he once again rose and walked over to her. Before she could move, he caged her in with his arms on either side of her. He gave her a considering look. "Hhhmmnn, now where should we start? Here?" he asked as he brushed his fingers across her lips. "Or, here?" James' fingers slowly trailed down her neck, across her shoulders and settled in the valley between her breasts. He leaned in and lightly nipped at her earlobe, causing Kat to shiver with a combination of fear and desire.

"James, what are you doing?"

James raised an eyebrow and smirked, "I would have thought that obvious, my darling. I'm claiming past payment due to me."

"But _here_? _Now_? James, your men are right outside the door."

"Then you would do well not to kick up a fuss, wouldn't you?"

"James, this is not like you. Please, can't this wait until we get home?" She swallowed a small whimper as his nimble fingers found their way between fabric and skin and began caressing a breast.

"No, I do not believe that it can wait. I have been as patient as I intend to be. You can only push a man so far, Mrs. Norrington, before he loses his ability to think and act rationally."

His mouth covered hers and soon wiped out every coherent thought. When at last he pulled away, it took a few moments for her to regain both her breath and wits. Kat attempted one last plea, "James, please, let's go home and continue there. You'll be much more comfortable."

James drew back and studied Kat's extremely flustered face. He smiled. For all of her boldness, Kat was rather a prude at heart and this situation obviously had her wrong footed. Good. The little termagant deserved some discomfiture. "I am perfectly comfortable here and I do not wish to wait. I would suggest that you remember that you are in the wrong, and it would behoove you to stop protesting and arguing with my decisions."

He watched as conflicting emotions flitted across her face. He could tell that his blatant disregard of her pleas and his insistence on her yielding annoyed and even angered her. And yet, if the shallowness of her breathing and the dilation of her pupils were any indication, it also excited her. His fingers made quick work of the laces on her dress bodice and brushed aside her thin chemise. He continued to stroke and tease the taut tips of her now bare breasts. Kat's eyes fluttered shut and she slumped a bit against the wall.

"James, are you still angry with me?" The question came out as a sigh, with all fight having left her voice.

"A bit, but we shall soon remedy that problem." For a moment he considered having her there up against the wall, it was something that they had never done before. Then a better, less noisy, idea came to mind. "Lift your skirts."

All languor evaporated and her eyes flew open. "What?"

"I said, lift your skirts."

"James, surely you can not mean to… I mean not here!"

"Kat, for four nights I have laid awake thinking of you and the way that you feel when you come apart in my arms, four indescribably long and hellish nights. A great deal of my pleasure comes from watching you achieve yours. You've cheated me out of that and you must repay your debt. Now, I said…_lift_… _your_…_skirts_!"

Accepting that he was in no mood to be denied, Kat obeyed her husband's directive. Vulnerability washed over her as she stood in front of him with her chest exposed and her skirts hiked up around her waist. She knew that the dark thatch of hair between her legs was clearly visible through the light silk material of her undergarment.

After an agonizing eternity, James dropped to his knees and clasped her upper thighs. With a careful deliberation, he strung kisses and light love bites along the soft flesh of her inner thighs and Kat found it difficult to remain standing.

Soon she could not stop the small sounds of pleasure from escaping past her lips. Mindful of the nearby soldiers, she twisted her skirts around one fist and placed her other hand over her mouth. A few moments later Kat was glad that she had taken the precaution. A slight ripping sound filled the air as James impatiently pushed his way past her underthings to find the prize he sought.

At the first touch of his lips, Kat bit into the heel of her hand to stifle her shriek. As his tongue began to nuzzle, lick and gently thrust into her, Kat could feel her tension mounting on the way to the ultimate release. She had also missed their activities and was more than primed for him. It only took a scant few minutes before she shuddered in climax.

James stood up and could not keep the self satisfied grin from his face. Kat looked thoroughly ravished, thoroughly sated and thoroughly dazed. He helped her repair her disheveled state and then linked her arm with his and headed for the door. "Come, Mrs. Norrington. It is time we headed home. That was only the down payment and you still owe me the balance of your debt." James softly laughed as he noted that his usually verbose wife did not utter a single word of protest.


	10. Hot and Bothered

A/N: I'm sorry about the long delay in updating. Not only did my muse desert me, but an anti-muse took up residence. I think that I have finally kicked her out and hope to produce the next chapter in a timelier manner. Enjoy!

* * *

The three women made their way down the narrow corridor headed towards the Captain's quarters. Katherine and Val were engaged in a silent but running conversation over Millicent's head. They had had the argument so many times that words were no longer necessary. Val was firmly of the opinion that Millicent should be forewarned of Bertie's presence aboard the ship, but Katherine had argued vehemently against that course of action. In the end, Val had conceded that it might be easiest to wait until there was nothing Millicent could do about the situation. Thus, after many days of machinations, Millicent still remained blissfully ignorant that she was about to spend the next few weeks in close quarters with Mr. Bertrand Sparrow. Now, Val wanted to give Millicent at least a few minutes warning about was she was going to encounter.

Val stopped short and grabbed Millicent's arm. "Millicent, there is something that you should know."

Katherine grabbed Millicent's other arm and tried to yank her free. "Come along, Millicent, or we'll be late."

"She needs to know."

"No, she does not."

"Yes, she does!"

"Val, she'll know soon enough. Let's hurry or we shall be late for dinner. The men are already there." Katherine practically began to drag the younger woman down the passage.

Millicent dug her heels in and tried to free her arm. "Will you two stop treating me like a rag doll? I will not take another step until you, Katherine, tell me exactly what is going on. The two of you have been whispering behind my back for the past several days and I'm tired off it!" Millicent emphasized her point with a dainty stamp of her foot.

Katherine and Val again argued silently over the best course of action. At last, Katherine sighed and nodded her head.

Val began, "Millicent, you might want to know that due to an unfortunate set of circumstances…' but before she could finish her statement the object of her confession rounded the corner and nearly bumped into the three women.

Both Katherine and Val unconsciously took a step back as Millicent and Bertie sized each other up, each a comical figure of shock. Moments slowly passed with the tension level rising to an uncomfortable level.

At last, Bertie broke the silence, "Dear cousin Jack has a lot to answer for. I assume that your husband was also part of the plot, Katherine?"

Katherine uneasily shifted from foot to foot, trying to think of an appropriate answer.

After all, James did know about Millicent's presence aboard the ship but he was not aware of the matchmaking plans that she and Val had concocted. It was odd that he had not informed Bertie that Millicent was to join them on the journey, odd and unlike James to withhold important information. Tonight they would have to have a discussion about the topic, but right now she needed to answer Bertie. "Plot? What plot? You are far too suspicious, Bertie. Millicent is merely accompanying us so that she can have a season in London. Surely, that's understandable?"

Bertie surveyed the three women in front of him. Two wore artificially innocent expressions and the third looked as shocked as he felt. Evidently, whatever Katherine and Val were up to, Miss Witherspoon had not been included in the plans. That provided at least a small measure of relief. Katherine, Val and their husbands would be hard enough to combat without adding Miss Witherspoon's efforts into the mix. _What was it about getting married that suddenly caused one to feel as if everyone else should be married? And why on God's green earth did they think that Millicent Witherspoon would be a suitable match?_

Stifling a sigh, Bertie held out an arm to Valentine. "Of course, how silly of me suggest anything but the noblest of intentions with the two of you involved. Shall we head to dinner, cousin?"

Katherine and Millicent followed the pair down the corridor, Katherine looking like the cat that ate the canary and Millicent looking bemused and somewhat apprehensive at this turn of events. They both listened to the idle chit chat between Val and Bertie.

"You are looking a bit peaked, Bertie. Perhaps you should take a turn about the deck after dinner? Some fresh air will do you wonders and I'm sure that we can find someone to accompany you."

"That won't be necessary, Val. I'm certain that I shall feel much better after dinner. It just takes me a few days to get my sea legs, a fact that Jack never tires of tormenting me over."

Millicent could not help herself; a snicker of merriment escaped her at this confession. The thought of _Mr. Oh So Perfect_ being seasick was too rich for words. Her amusement evaporated when he stopped short, turned and fixed her with a glare.

"You find another's distress amusing, Miss Witherspoon? I suppose, given your character, that should not surprise me and yet it does. Oh well, we can only hope that you'll outgrow your juvenile sense of humor." Bertie turned back around and continued to the Captain's quarters without uttering another word.

Millicent blinked back the rapidly forming tears. What was it about this man that brought out the worst in her? And why could a few harsh words from him make her feel so utterly desolate? Well she wasn't going to let him get the best of her. It did not matter of he thought her childish; she intended to enjoy every moment of his discomfiture. After all, he deserved it with his condescending air and arrogant manner. Oh yes, watching him find his sea legs would prove very amusing indeed. With this silent vow she stuck her chin out and made her way to dinner with a determined air.

* * *

Six says later, Millicent recalled her silent vow and felt ill at ease. Bertie had not even finished dinner that night. Halfway through the second course, he had arisen abruptly and departed the room in what could only be called a hurried manner. He had been confined to his quarters ever since, with Val and Katherine performing nursing duties. At first, everyone had assumed it was just seasickness and many jokes had been made at his expense. But when he developed a fever, a solemnity fell over the small group of travelers. Fevers were always dangerous and a fever aboard ship was doubly so.

Millicent entered the cabin with a fresh pitcher of water. The noise she made caused Katherine to jerk up in surprise from her unplanned nap. Millicent noted the dark circles beneath Katherine's eyes and the way that stress showed in the tightness of her usually relaxed and smiling mouth. Katherine had confided in her that nursing ill folks was something she found extremely difficult to do and yet, when the need arose, Katherine had risen to the occasion. This made Millicent feel even worse.

"Katherine, go to your cabin and get some rest. You are about to fall out of that chair."

"I can't. Who will take care of Bertie? Valentine is sleeping right now and I don't have the heart to wake her."

"I'll nurse him for a few hours." Seeing that Katherine was about to protest, Millicent continued, "You are exhausted and both you and Val have been at this non stop. I know that it is technically improper for me to be alone with him but no one need ever know if we all hold our tongues." Millicent could tell that Katherine was almost swayed. "Besides, it will be another milestone on my road to living more dangerously. Really, Katherine, there is nothing to worry about. Mr. Sparrow is in no condition to try to take advantage of me."

"Are you sure about this, Millicent?"

"Yes. Now go and get some sleep before you become ill as well and we have two of you to nurse." Millicent ushered Katherine out the door and turned back to face her patient. He looked so helpless with his hair matted from sweats and his body thinner by close to a stone. Brushing aside her inexplicable tears at this sight, Millicent settled down and began mopping his fevered brow.

* * *

Millicent became part of the regular rotation of nursing duties and a few days passed with no discernable improvement in Bertie. The nights were long and boring so she took to reading to him aloud from one of Mrs. Radcliff's novels. It was doubtful that he would appreciate the story if he were awake but Millicent found the action reassuring. It was close to dawn on her fourth night of nursing and she paused to take a sip of water and take a short stroll about the room to stretch her limbs.

"Why did you stop, duchess? It was just getting interesting."

Millicent whirled around at the hoarse croak, the words barely discernable. Relief washed over her as she saw Bertie with his eyes open and struggling to sit up.

"Stop that, Bertrand Sparrow. You just lay there quietly. I'll get you what you need."

"Water. I need some water, duchess"

Millicent quickly poured a glass and held it to his lips. Bertie gratefully took several gulps. She was dismayed to note his nightshirt was soaked through. Evidently the fever had well and truly broke, but now he was in danger of catching a chill. For a moment she considered waking the others for assistance but then scolded herself for being so missish. She was an adult woman and she could handle this situation by herself.

Gathering a fresh nightshirt, a dry towel and a basin of water, Millicent settled beside the bed.

Bertie eyed her speculatively. "What do you think you're doing, duchess?"

"I'm going to sponge you down and then help you into a dry nightshirt. The fever has broken and we don't want you catching a chill."

"Ah, duchess, I do not think that is a very good idea. Why don't you go wake Jack or James?"

Millicent gave him a stern glare. "Don't be absurd. They are sleeping and I am only doing what any nurse would do. Unless of course, you are _afraid_? " She gently started bathing his face and patting it dry.

_Damn her touch was soothing_, so soothing that he could not find it in himself to protest any further. The cool clean water felt like heaven and the light brush of her fingers was a pleasure. He allowed himself to relax and enjoy the moment until her hands strayed to lower.

Millicent was engrossed in her task. She pushed open the sides of his gown and began gently bathing his chest. For a moment, she lost her concentration as she noted the musculature so very different from her own and the sprinkling of light blond hairs scattered across the expanse. She'd never seen a man's naked chest before but she would bet that his was a fine example, even after a bout of illness. Swallowing convulsively, Millicent forced herself to proceed as if nothing were amiss. She grasped the material and tried to figure out how best to remove the wet nightshirt.

"Now, let's get this soaked garment off of you and…" Millicent let out a tiny shriek as he abruptly sat up and her hand was grasped firmly and yanked away.

Through gritted teeth, Bertie warned, "That is enough, Millicent. I am ill, not dead. I would strongly suggest that you leave this room and go seek assistance before we head down a path that would be foolhardy indeed.

Millicent stared at the set of his jaw and for a moment considered continuing her ministrations, her curiosity was piqued and she wanted to know how far she could push him. Then he let out a small growl and she jumped up from the bed and rushed from the room, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor.

Bertie flopped back down and gave a groan that had absolutely nothing to do with being sick. _Dear God, when had it happened? When had this spoiled chit wormed her way into his notice to such an extent that even an innocent touch could cause him throb and literally ache with desire? And, more importantly, what the hell was he going to do about it?_


	11. A Duchess Emerges

A/N: My heartfelt apologies to all of you have been patiently waiting for me to update. Real life got in the way and killed my creative juices. However, they now have returned and I hope are juicer than ever. ;)

* * *

As Bertie shrugged on his jacket, he thought of how much he preferred dressing without the assistance of a valet hovering about and fussing at him. It was a luxury he would soon have to forfeit. They were only two days away from England at most and, if the favorable winds continued, they might even dock tomorrow.

Contemplating his image in the looking glass, Bertie let out a sigh. Several weeks had passed since the night he awoke to find Millicent nursing him, several weeks during which he and Millicent had reached a tentative truce. No, that was not accurate. The two of them had reached more than a mere truce. Their relationship has flourished. Flourished to the point where an offer of marriage would not be out of the question. Yet, he was hesitant to propose to Millicent.

He liked living a bachelor's life and settling down had never been the most attractive option. Millicent was most definitely not the type of woman he had thought to one day marry. Hell, she could barely be considered a woman at her tender age. Suddenly Bertie felt every one of his years.

But more and more, he had found himself considering the idea. The last few weeks had allowed him to glimpse facets of Millicent that he doubted many had ever seen. There was a great deal more to Miss Witherspoon than initially met the eye. For one thing, she had a good mind, when she chose to use it for more than discussing gossip. For another, she had a wicked sense of humor, if perhaps sometimes a touch mean. And, of course, there was the passion that seemed to flare between them whenever they were in proximity. Bertie release an anguished groan. He might as well face facts; he was well and truly ensnared. This was not the sort of infatuation that would fade in a few months' time. No, this was the type of feeling that could only exist when you wholly loved person- warts and all.

Bertie ruthlessly squashed the rush of joy he felt at finally acknowledging his love. This was not a time for celebration, for there was no cause to believe that she felt the same. She felt affection for him, but did she love him? Of that, he was not so certain. If he had to guess, he would suppose that she had neatly placed him in a mental box labeled 'amusing but not appropriate for marriage.'

The solution to this problem was easy enough to identify. Yet, he was not ready to take that route. Millicent Witherspoon felt _something_ for him, of that he was convinced. It was only a matter if she was willing to overlook his humble stature. Would she be able to see far enough past her pretty nose to give herself to a man instead of a title?

As he finished tying his cravat, he made a decision. There was only one way to find the answer to questions. Tonight, he would take the plunge and propose.

* * *

Millicent nervously fussed with the lace at her décolletage. She berated herself for doing so because it was unladylike and unattractive to do so in front of a gentleman, but then it really did not seem to matter. Bertrand Sparrow was not paying the slightest attention to her. He had spent the last ten minutes staring silently out to sea.

Millicent smiled as she thought about what her reaction to his behavior would have been if this had occurred a few months ago. Likely, she would have thrown a tantrum to force him to pay attention to her. And when he had done so, she would have promptly sought out the nearest gentleman and ignored Mr. Sparrow for the next few days, until he had been sufficiently chastised for his error. Her smile widened at her past foolishness. Katherine and Valentine had taught her that, although some games between men and women would always exist, her past methods of dealing with men had yielded what she deserved: men who were mindless sheep. Perhaps that was what she had initially found so appealing about Jack Sparrow? The man was most certainly not a mindless sheep, neither was his cousin. If truth be told, Bertie Sparrow was even more appealing to her than Jack had been.

Growing alarmed at the direction of her thoughts, Millicent softly cleared her throat and inquired, "Did you enjoy the dinner, Mr. Sparrow?" Inwardly, she groaned at the inanity of her comment, but the silence had become intolerable.

Bertie turned, blinked and shook his head, as if surprised to see her standing next to him. "Um…yes, Miss Witherspoon. Dinner was delightful. I believe that, if we continue at this speed, it will be our last aboard ship. Tomorrow, we are likely to reach port. I imagine that you must be excited to arriving. If I am not mistaken, the Season has barely begun. You will have plenty of balls to attend."

Millicent started at Bertie for a moment. He seemed awfully serious, not his usual playful self. The only other times he had been so intense had always resulted in the two of them in each other's arms. But this seemed different. This seemed like he was preparing himself for an unpleasant task. Uncertain of this Bertie, Millicent hid behind chatter, "Yes. Katherine and Val have been filling me on all of the members of the ton. I am a little concerned because both of them have been away from London for so long that things are bound to have changed. I should hate to make a misstep after traveling all this way. I hope that your cousin can fill me on all of the latest on dits. It is so very kind of him to offer all of us his hospitality."

Bertie's felt himself relax a bit at this sign of her nervousness. _Good. He was not the only one feeling ill at ease. _"Yes. He is a very kind gentleman."

"Neither Val nor Katherine know much about him. They say he has always been a bit of a recluse. They believe he is rather old and perhaps sickly. Evidently, he prefers the country to town. As far as they know, he has never openly participated in society."

"Well, he is not impressed with what he has read and heard of town life."

"Oh." Millicent really was not all that interested in an aging cousin of Bertie's, duke though he might be. Yet the conversation was better than the earlier tension. She was worried that Bertie was going to say goodbye and, though she knew it must occur, she was not yet ready to relinquish her time with him. She was not sure if she would ever be ready to do so. Several silent minutes slid by. "Is he very attractive?'

At the same time Millicent asked her question, Bertie took a fortifying breath and began, "Miss Witherspoon, would you do me…" Bertie ground to a halt as her question registered. He shook his head like a dog shaking off an unexpected spray of water. "What? Why do ask?"

Feeling foolish that she had been caught babbling, Millicent threw out the first excuse that occurred, 'Well, Bertie, he is a duke, after all. Of course, I am interested in learning about him. He's not married and certain to be on the hunt for a wife. Why else would he come to town if he so dislikes it?"

As her words and their implications sank in, Bertie felt a rage slowly build and seep into every crevice of his being. Here he was about to propose to this woman and she was busy calculating her chances of securing another man's affections: his very own cousin, no less. He turned away from her and grasped the railing until his knuckles grew white. It was the only thing preventing him from shaking her until her teeth rattled.

"Bertie? What is wrong?"

He slowly turned back to her, his jaw clenched. "You really have not changed one iota, have you, _duchess_? I was foolish to think that there was more to you than met the eye. I let myself forget that you are a scheming, marriage minded, social climber."

Millicent stepped back. Puzzled as to what had brought about his anger. She had simply been making silly, idle conversation. _Why was he so very angry at her?_ Millicent gave voice to her question and then took a further few steps backwards as the now seething Bertie advanced on her.

"Now I know why you were being so very pleasant with me. You saw a chance to work your way into my good graces so that I would say nice things about you to the duke. You were laying the foundation for your campaign to land a title. Damn and blast! I am such a fool for not seeing it earlier."

Bewildered, Millicent could not even find it in herself to be angry at the unjust accusation. "Bertie, what are you talking about? I do not even know your cousin. I have only recently heard of him through Katherine and Val."

"Yes, that is just the issue is it not? You need to be properly introduced and recommended as a potential marriage candidate. Who better to do so than his very own cousin? Well, let me inform you, Miss Witherspoon, that you most certainly do not want me voicing my opinion of your character to the duke. I should be forced to tell him what a conniving, little trollop you are."

At the word trollop, Millicent's confusion evaporated. "Trollop? How dare you call me a trollop, Bertie Sparrow? I am nothing of the sort and you very well know it. Go ahead and tell your cousin fanciful lies about me. I am certain that he will be able to tell a lady of quality when he sees one; not like some fools that I could mention."

"Really? Fanciful lies?" A nasty smirk appeared on Bertie's face. "Are you sure of that, _duchess_? Perhaps I should tell the duke that you and I are already practically _kissing _cousins, hm? What do you think he would say to that? What would that morsel of information do to your chances of marriage?" Bertie flung the words out, somewhat appalled by his own venom. Remorse was already displacing his anger. There was no excuse for his words. He could only blame the bottomless well of disappointment he felt upon learning that she obviously did not return his feelings. How could she, if she was so blithely pumping him for information on a more suitable candidate for her hand? Love had blinded him and made him a fool. He stood and waited for the expected explosion and inevitable slap and was surprised when it did not come.

"Very well, Mr. Sparrow, you do as you see fit. There were two parties involved in those kisses, one on each end. You may say that I am not a lady for kissing you, but only a true cad would blackmail me about them. I thought that I knew you. I thought that you had honor. Apparently, I was sorely mistaken. Good night, sir. You'll forgive me for seeing myself to my cabin. I no longer wish to be in your company." There were no sign of tears, temper or tantrum in her demeanor as Millicent turned her nose up in the air and regally swept off the deck towards her cabin.

Bertie watched as she turned on her heel and walked away from him. He was confused about how things had gone so very wrong. He had gone from wanting to propose to her to insulting and threatening her. And her response had been calm and measured: every inch the duchess. Somewhere along the line, she had grown into a full blooded woman. A woman who stirred his blood and had captured his heart as no other woman had ever done.

Bertie smiled grimly. This was not over. He would have her and on his terms. It was just a matter of when and not if. After all, Bertrand Sparrow, Duke of Wildbourne, always got what he wanted and he wanted Millicent Witherspoon as his duchess.


	12. Bed Chambers

Millicent surveyed the room as the maid finished dressing her hair. The décor was absolutely lovely, the walls upholstered in the palest of yellow silks. Earlier she had had the pleasure of indulging in a long soak in a tub filled with rose scented water. It was amazing how luxurious such a simple act could feel, but weeks of making do with sponge baths had taken their toll. She eyed the bed with its fresh, crisp linens and wished she had an opportunity to take a nap, for it looked heavenly. However, dinner was to be served in less than an hour and so that particular pleasure would have to wait.

Martha, noting her temporary mistress' survey, offered, "It's a right pretty room, ain't it, Miss Witherspoon?"

"Yes, it is beautiful. Frankly, it's not what I expected to find in a bachelor's home."

"I hear tell that the duke was most particular when it came to this room. He, himself, chose all of the furnishings."

"Then he has a fine eye. His wife will be a fortunate woman indeed."

Martha smirked and pinned another flower blossom into Millicent's hair. Catching the maid's eye in the dressing mirror, Millicent noted her cat ate the canary expression. "Out with it, Martha. What has you so very amused? Please tell me before I make a horrible faux pas in front of my host."

This was all the encouragement the young servant needed. Putting the brush down and abandoning all propriety she dragged a footstool and sat down, ready to engage in a round of gossip. "Well, now that you be asking Miss Witherspoon, I heard the housekeeper, Missus Browyn saying that this morning a runner came by with instructions that you be placed in this _particular_ room." The young maid paused and waited expectantly for a response.

Unsure of what to say, Millicent offered, "Oh?"

Apparently the response was satisfactory because Martha continued, "It caused a right ruckus it did. This room needed to be aired out, linens changed and fresh flowers brought up. We only just finished as the lot of you arrived."

Since it had worked the last time, Millicent again replied, "Oh?"

"Yes. You see, Miss, no one knew the circumstances of your coming or we'd have been much better prepared."

"The circumstances? Martha, I am afraid that you have lost me. The Duke knew of our arrival weeks and weeks ago. I saw the letters with my own eyes. Lady Sparrow wrote to him of our trip."

"Oh yes, miss, we all knew of your coming but no one told us as to how you and the master are engaged."

Millicent dropped the ruby earbob that she was fastening and practically shrieked, "Engaged? The Duke of Wildbourne and I engaged? Why we have yet to even meet."

Martha became flustered and stammered, "But…but Miss Witherspoon, the master specifically sent word that you were to be placed in this room and this is the room for the mistress of the house. The master's room is next door and connects through." She demonstrated her point by crossing the room and yanking open a door.

Millicent went and peered through the open passageway. Sure enough, a masculine looking bed chamber was on the opposite side of the wall. A fine red mist began to form in front of her eyes. How dare the Duke of Wildbourne act in such an outrageous manner? What gall he had to place her in the sleeping chamber next to his. Of course all of the servants had naturally jumped to the conclusion that they must be betrothed. No respectable young woman would inhabit a room with a door that connected through to a gentleman's room. The duke might be a bit of a country bumpkin but surely even he knew that much. Why he apparently was no better than his insufferable cousin Bertie.

At the thought of Bertie, some of her ire began to dissipate. A small smile formed and she gave a satisfied hmph. Although she might not care for his high handedness in the matter, the duke obviously had marked her as his future wife by the chosen sleeping arrangements and Bertie Sparrow could take that fact and stuff it in his hat. It would not matter what lies he spread about her to his cousin, the decision had already been made. She would soon be a duchess and he nothing but a common laborer. Briefly she wondered when and how the duke's decision to wed her had occurred, for they had yet to ever meet.

He must have been amongst those on the crowded docks when they'd arrived. Evidently he'd taken one look at her and decided that he must have her as his own. A small thrill shot up her spine at the thought of the duke falling so hopelessly and completely in love with her at just the merest of glances. Why it was practically like a fairy tale. And though she would most definitely take him to task for his autocratic behavior and make him work to earn her forgiveness; Millicent was secretly thrilled by the romantic nature of it all.

"Tell me, Martha, is his grace very handsome?"

"I'm afraid I don't rightly know, Miss Witherspoon. I'm new to the household and have yet to meet him. But cook does say he's a strapping and fine looking man. Cook was right thrilled when the orders came, as she says he is getting far past the age when he ought to have married."

This news marred some of Millicent's happiness. "So his grace is indeed an elderly man?" Even as she queried, she fought to push the image of Bertie Sparrow from her mind. It did not matter how virile and in the prime of his life Bertie was, he was not the man for her. The Duke of Wildbourne was her future and that was a future that suited her just fine. So what if he was a tad on the elderly side? All that meant was that he would be more eager to please his new, young wife. And he would start by escorting her to all of the most fashionable balls and fêtes this season; the very type of events that a poor relation like Bertrand Sparrow would not even be invited to attend. That would certainly show him who was having the last laugh, wouldn't it?

* * *

"You have to do something, James. It simply is not proper."

James Norrington was unable to stifle the snort of derision at this statement. This earned him an irritated look from his spouse that caused him to chuckle. "I apologize, Kat, but you do have to admit that those words falling from your lips are rather ironic."

Kat put down the brush and stopped her preparations for dinner. "James, this isn't funny. Mister Witherspoon entrusted her to my care and these arrangements are intolerable. Her reputation will be ruined before she even attends her first ball. I know what it is like to be the center of gossip and rumor mongering and it is not pleasant. Poor Millicent will not be able to weather the storm."

James stopped fiddling with his waistcoat buttons and went to stand behind his wife at the dressing table. Placing his hands on her bared shoulders, his eyes met hers in the looking glass. He was surprised to see the beginnings of tears. This whole matter was truly upsetting her. He heaved a frustrated sigh. Hell and damnation, why was he always placed in the middle of these awkward situations? He had given his word that he would not reveal Bertie's secret when Bertie and Jack had at last revealed the truth of the matter; Bertie was determined to secure Millicent's affections without benefit of a title.

While he could understand and even empathize with this desire, James was not at all happy to be in his current position. Withholding information from Kat was never an easy task and Sparrow had made it that much more difficult by putting Millicent in the blasted bridal chamber. What the hell had the man been thinking? It was a move destined to cause tongues to wag. With that thought, James had his answer. Of course that was exactly what Bertie wanted. It was a way to mark Millicent as off limits to others until he got around to claiming her as his own. No man of the ton would dare approach a woman who had been so obviously claimed by a duke as his own. He had to admire the Bertie's battle strategy but right now, more importantly, he had a wife to comfort and distract.

Placing a light kiss on top of her head, he reassured, "I am sure that the Duke of Wildbourne has the most honorable of intentions. After all, he knows that she is a friend of his cousin's wife. If Millicent is not bothered by the rather premature claim to her affections, shouldn't we let the matter rest?"

Meeting James' eyes, she fretted, "But how can Millicent allow this to occur? She has never even met the man. She cannot possibly know if she wishes to spend her life with him."

"Darling Kat, most marriages are not like ours. If Millicent is content with a marriage based on social standing, is it our place to intervene?" James' lips began to trail a string of small kisses down the back of her neck and into the curve of her shoulder. He felt Kat shudder in response and smirked. As a distraction technique, this never failed. Kat's neck and shoulders were particularly sensitive.

But Kat was having none of it, for she was determined to talk about the problem. She swatted at him until he once again lifted his head and then turned to face him. "James, do be serious. It is patently obvious that Bertrand and Millicent are meant for each other. We simply cannot allow this pompous duke to come between them."

Sighing with irritation that his diversion had not worked, James asked, "Why don't you ask Millicent what she thinks about the matter? If she is truly unhappy with the situation, then we shall switch rooms with her." He silently hoped that Millicent decided to stay put, for he did not relish explaining to Bertie why his plans were thwarted. Still and all, Bertie's annoyance would be easier to face than Kat's distress.

James was quickly rewarded for his magnanimous offer as Kat jumped up, twined her arms about his neck and gave him an enthusiastic kiss. The enthusiasm quickly turned to passion and James' hands began to wander.

"James, stop that. We have to be down to dinner in half an hour."

"That is plenty of time for what I have in mind, Missus Norrington."

Kat pretended to be scandalized by her husband's suggestion but she could not keep the excitement from her voice as she protested, "But my dress shall become wrinkled. Really James, you do sometimes pick the most inappropriate moments."

"Then we shall endeavor to be careful." With these words, he pulled the chair farther away from the dressing table. After seating himself, he quickly unfastened the buttons of his breeches and firmly grasped his wife about the hips. "Lift your skirts and come sit here."

Kat's eyes widened at the order. "James, you aren't serious? Not now. Not like this?" But while she voiced her concern, she did nothing to fight against his insistent tugging of her towards the chair. In fact, she obediently widened her stance before settling down onto his lap.

James smiled as he tugged at her bodice and freed a breast for his feasting. For the remaining time before dinner, there was no more discussion of sleeping arrangements. The only sounds made were the delightful sighs and squeaks that he roused from his more than willing wife.

* * *

Dinner was nearly complete and there still was no sign of the duke. Millicent was tempted to throw a peevish tantrum but instead diverted her energy into acting as the lady of the house. With a regal concession, she nodded to a servant to indicate that the final course was to be served. No one questioned her right to act as hostess and that was likely all that kept her from shrieking with frustration.

Moments before heading into the dining room, Kat and Valentine had cornered her and insisted that she move into a different bed chamber. On the verge of agreeing, she was brought up short when Kat had pointed out that Bertie would find the current arrangement intolerable. That was all it took for her to dig her heels in and declare that she cared not one whit for what Bertrand Sparrow thought and that she was glad to have been singled out by the duke as his future bride. Minutes of hushed and fruitless arguing ensued, with both Valentine and Katherine pointing out that Millicent had never even met the duke.

"And where is Bertrand Sparrow anyway? He disappeared once we disembarked. Why should I care a fig for his opinion on anything?" Millicent fiercely whispered.

"I have no idea where he has taken himself to. I asked Jack and he mumbled something about Bertie not feeling comfortable here under the current circumstances. I assume that he means that Bertie does not enjoy feeling the poor relation. Really, can you blame the man?"

"That goes to prove the rightness of what I'm doing, Valentine. Why should I care about a man such as he when I have a duke declaring his interest?"

Katherine was about to answer sharply when she noticed the sparkle of tears in Millicent's eyes. Softly she countered, "You should care because you love him, Millicent. Just as he loves you."

"Love? He certainly has a funny way of demonstrating it. First he calls me a trollop and then he disappears without saying goodbye. Well, if that is love then I shall happily forgo it. I shall enjoy being the Duchess of Wildbourne. I daresay that the duke knows how to properly treat a lady. Unlike some that I could mention. " With this pronouncement she pulled her elbow from Katherine's grasp and strode into the dining room.

Now here she sat hours later and still no sign of the man that she was unofficially betrothed to. Perhaps he was not such a gentleman after all? Her thoughts were interrupted as a servant escorted a young delivery boy into the room.

The young man blushed when he noticed that he had interrupted dinner, but he did not deter from his mission. Approaching Millicent, he bowed and politely said, "I beg your pardon, Miss Witherspoon, but I was charged with delivering this to you in person and as soon as possible. The gentleman said it was most important." He handed her a sealed letter and a gaily wrapped box.

James shot a puzzled glance at Jack, as Katherine and Valentine jumped up to gather around Millicent. Jack nodded his head slightly and discretely placed his finger to his lips in warning. Rising, he fished about for a coin and gave it to the young man who quickly left.

Millicent broke the seal and read the missive. Soon she let out a little of squeal of delight and even Valentine and Katherine, who were reading over her shoulder, smiled.

Jack drawled, "Well are you going to be sharing with the rest of us or is it a for ladies only type of thing?"

Impressed despite her initial misgivings, Katherine snatched the letter from Millicent and read out loud:

_**My dearest Miss Witherspoon-**_

_**I beg you your pardon for my unconventional means in wooing you. From the moment that my eyes alighted upon you, I knew you to be a rare and special young woman. Your beauty, both inner and outer, act as a shining beacon for my affection just as a lighthouse acts as a beacon of hope for weary sailors. For too long, I have sailed the seas of life alone and I now hope that my journey will be enriched with you as a companion by my side. **_

_**I regret that I am unable to meet you properly at this time but unforeseen circumstances require that I delay that great pleasure. Please utilize my home as if it were your own, for indeed, with your kind permission, it shall soon indeed be so. Meanwhile, please accept this very small token as a symbol of my commitment to you.**_

_**Sincerest regards,**_

_**Your Devoted Admirer **_

All three women sighed at the conclusion.

Under his breath, Jack muttered, "Sounds like he spent too much time being ill at sea if you ask me."

James snorted at Jack's observation.

But none of the women even noticed the men's reaction. Millicent was too busy ripping open the small package and Valentine and Katherine eagerly watched her, wanting to see what it contained. Carefully she opened up the box and out of the cotton wadding pulled a small packet of folded paper. As she unfolded it, an enormous marquis shaped aquamarine ring tumbled out. Written on slip of paper was:

_**Will you be my duchess?**_


	13. La Dolce Vita?

A/N: Thank you everyone for your patience. I know that it has been a ridiculously long time since I updated. This chapter is a belated birthday present for Krickee, but the real present will come next chapter! lol

* * *

Millicent stifled a sigh as she sipped her morning chocolate. Tonight they were to attend yet another ball. When they'd first arrived in London, the thought of a ball had her giddy with excitement. However, now, three weeks later, the prospect of another evening with callow young men trodding upon her toes was no longer as appealing.

"Millicent why are you so quiet this morning?"

"No reason, Katherine. I only wish that the Duke would make an appearance. I understand that business keeps him busy but it is growing rather tiring being asked questions about my fiancé for which I do not know the answer. It is really rather annoying and embarrassing."

Kat surveyed her young friend with a suspicious eye. She had her doubts that this was the sole reason for Millicent's ennui. The other day she had overheard Millicent trying to nonchalantly question a servant about Bertrand Sparrow. If Kat were to place a wager on who held Miss Witherspoon's affections, it most definitely would not be on the Duke of Wildbourne for the win. Yet, it would be folly to suggest this to Millicent. The mere suggestion would be enough to cause her to do something foolish as proof that this was not indeed the case. No, the best course of action was to simply let the Duke's continued absence to work against his suit.

"Well I'm certain that he will make an appearance before too much more time has passed. After all, he'll want a chance to rub his good fortune in your would-be suitors' faces. More importantly, he'll wish to publicly stake his claim before another admirer steals you away. Tell me, have any of them caught your fancy?"

Lulled by the flattery, Millicent started to reply, "No, none of them even hold a candle to…" In the nick of time, she realized what she was about to reveal. "Really, Katherine, what kind of question is that? I am thrilled to have my duke. How could anyone else compare?" Her artificially bright smile did little to make her words more believable to Katherine.

Hiding her satisfaction at having her suspicions confirmed, Katherine decided not to push her luck and she changed the subject. "I do hope that Jack and Val's visit with Jack's father is going well. I don't think that I've ever seen Jack as nervous as he was when they set out."

And with the topic now a neutral one, the two women chatted amiably for several hours.

* * *

The sound of a heavy sigh brought his searching to an abrupt halt. Suddenly, finding the document in the messy escritoire was no longer as important as it had been when he entered the room. What the hell was going on? The house was supposed to be empty tonight. Taking care to be quiet, he crossed the room to peer over the back of the settee.

Snuggled under a quilt and fast asleep was Millicent. Bertie felt himself holding his breath as he gazed down at her. She looked like an angel with her golden hair tumbling loose and her pouty lips slightly parted. He suppressed his laughter at the thought of Millicent as an angel; she might look the role but she certainly did not have the temperament of one. His amusement fled when she gave a throaty murmur of, "Vicentio."

Who the hell was Vicentio? And why hadn't James or Jack informed him that Millicent had attracted such a beau? It was one thing to leave her basking in the attentions of insipid young Englishmen. It was a whole different matter to leave her exposed to the maneuvering of an Italian scoundrel. Bertie was so busy stewing over the matter that he took him several moments to realize that Millicent had awakened and was now groggily staring at him.

"Bertie?" She blinked her eyes a few times trying to dispel the unexpected and confusing vision of Bertrand Sparrow standing over her. "Am I dreaming?"

Irritation laced his voice as he replied, "No, you are not dreaming. As evidenced by the fact that I'm Bertie and not Vicentio. Hate to disappoint you."

Struggling to throw the quilt off and sit up, Millicent squinted owlishly at his cryptic remark. What was he blathering on about and more importantly, "What are you doing here, Bertrand Sparrow?"

"I stopped by to pick up some papers I needed." As soon as the words left his lips, he realized his mistake. He went on the offensive, "Why are you here? Why aren't you at the Smythington's ball? It's not proper for you to be home without a chaperone."

Still half asleep, Millicent did not notice his slip, but she did take exception to his accusatory tone. "There is nothing wrong with me being here. There are plenty of servants around and no company was expected this evening. It is hardly my fault that you barged in unannounced."

Bertie had to concede that she had a valid point. But he was damned if he'd admit it to her. And he was still curious as to why she was here and not at the ball. Had she stayed behind in hopes of an illicit dalliance with this Vicentio fellow? She certainly had remained calm enough upon waking up to a man standing over her. "Why are you not at the ball?"

" I … I had a headache." Millicent felt herself flush as she told the lie. However, there was no way that she going to admit to Bertie Sparrow that she had grown tired of the fawning men. He would undoubtedly make some snide remark. Besides, the story was more than half true after all the time she'd had to spend arguing with Kat about James and her still attending the dance. Kat had insisted that James and she should stay home with her, but Millicent had wanted an evening of peace and solitude, away from the public eye. In the end, she had prevailed but the make believe ailment had been well on the way to becoming fact.

Bertie noticed the flush. She was lying. The little wench was trying to hide something. He took note of the simple cotton nightdress that she was wearing. It was hardly the attire of a seductress waiting for her lover. Then again, Millicent was young and naïve enough to think that anything less than being fully clothed was naughty and enticing. As he stared at her, he noticed that the outline of her breasts was clearly visible through the thin material. Perhaps she wasn't so naïve after all? The damn gown was more revealing than he'd first thought.

Millicent began to grow uncomfortable under his scrutiny and it dawned on her that she was inappropriately attired to be receiving a male caller. She told herself to ignore his intense stare but, when his eyes darkened with desire and she felt her breasts swell in response, she knew that it was time to try to take control of the situation. Standing up and clutching the quilt in front of her, she haughtily commanded, "Mr. Sparrow, I believe that you should leave now. You may call back in the morning. Whatever business you may have with Jack or James can be attended to at that time."

As always, her imperious tone fanned his irritation. This, coupled with the mysterious Vicentio, led to a full blown anger. "How kind of you, _duchess_. Oh, wait a moment, you're not quite a duchess yet, are you? Having trouble bringing him up to scratch? Is that why you're already planning to cuckold him with Vicentio? A word of advice? You'd better watch your unfortunate tendency of speaking in your sleep. I doubt your duke will tolerate that kind of behavior for long." He knew for damn sure that he would not tolerate her dreaming of other men. And if she dared to think that he would allow her to take a lover…

"Who…" Millicent was about to ask Bertie who Vicentio was when she remembered the book she had been reading before dozing off. It was one of Mrs. Radcliff's and the hero was Vicentio. Despite the differences in nationalities and coloring, he'd reminded her of Bertie. She must have been dreaming about him.

"Vicentio; the gentleman whose name you were whispering so lovingly while you slept."

Her lips quirked up in a grin. It was quite amusing to see Bertie so completely in the wrong. He wanted to be judge and condemn her based on incorrect information? Well, she would give him something to condemn her for. "Oh, I rather doubt that he will mind about Vicentio. But if he does, he will have to learn to live with it. There is no way that I could ever give up Vicentio." She paused and gave a delicate shrug of her shoulders. "I am not concerned. The Duke is so enamored of me that he will most definitely agree to any terms that I set as long as I provide him with an heir." It took a great deal of effort for her to refrain from cringing at her own words. She sounded like the spoilt, self-absorbed young girl she'd once been, but the chance to rub his loss in his face was too good to pass up. Let him go ahead and think that not only would she have a wealthy and titled husband but that she would also have a slew of lovers to fulfill her slightest whims.

Bertie found himself wanting to throttle her as she talked so calmly about taking a lover outside of their marriage. Of course, she didn't know that she was speaking to her future husband about potential paramours. Still, she should not even be entertaining the idea. This Vicentio would no longer be allowed in the same room as her, even if he had to hire a fleet of Bow Street runners to guard her night and day. Damn it! If she was going to cheat on him, then she was going to cheat on him with him. Bertie shook his head at his own convoluted logic. Closing his eyes, he counted to ten. It was time to retake control of the whole situation and he knew just how to do it. Inadvertently, she had given him the perfect means to achieve his goal.

"So, duchess, you plan to engage in the practices of the European courts and take on lovers after you're married? How very progressive of you. I never would have thought that a young chit from Port Royal would be so very modern in her thinking. Not a month in London and you are already adopting the practices of all of the best folks, are you?"

Her hiss of indrawn breath told him that his dart had hit home and relief flooded through him. Evidently, she had merely been bluffing with her talk about extra-marital affairs. He had not thought she could have changed so much in a few short weeks, yet the influence of London Society could indeed be powerful. Now, he would use her own tactics against her.

"Why wait until after the wedding, duchess? From what I've heard, your betrothed has been shamefully neglecting you. Why not start now as you mean to go? I believe that you and I have some unfinished business to attend to." He slowly started to walk towards her and hid a satisfied grin as he noticed her nervously twisting the ring on her left hand.

Now fully awake, Millicent became aware of the dangerous situation into which she had placed herself. Her blithely implying that she would engage in love affairs marked her as a woman open to improper advances and Bertie knew all about improper advances. She backed away and put her palms out to try to halt his progress and in doing so dropped the quilt.

Bertie stopped dead in his tracks. The light from the fireplace shone through the gown, her delectable curves were now clearly on view. His mouth grew parched as his eyes took in every detail. For three long weeks he had purposefully stayed away. He had wanted her to have the time to experience London Society and grow weary of its vapidness. Instinct had told him that she needed to experience the stultifying boredom of an endless round of balls for herself, for Millicent was not the type of woman to take the word of another. And now here she was standing before him and looking even more enticing that she had in his nightly dreams. A few moments ago, his plan had been to indulge in some light caresses and scare her into retracting her silly talk about affairs-- now the plan had changed.

Millicent sensed the change in Bertie. He had grown very still and was staring at her with could only be called a feral look. It felt as if he were a hungry wolf and she a rack of lamb. Nervously, her eyes skittered across his countenance, searching for some clue as to why the sudden change in his demeanor. When her gaze traveled downward and alighted upon the clearly visible bulge in his breeches, she let out an involuntary gasp. It wasn't the sight of his obvious cockstand that surprised her as much as her own body's instant response to his arousal. Her nipples tightened almost painfully and she felt a rush of heat and liquid between her thighs.

A sound, half growl and half anguished plea, pushed past Bertie's lips as he noted the unmistakable reactions in Millicent's body. He stopped fighting what had been inevitable from the moment that he had found her in the room tonight. "Damn and blast! I did not intend for this to occur like this, but I'll be damned if I can stop myself. This matter will be settled right now, tonight, and in the most pleasurable manner that I can imagine."

Hearing the angry passion in his voice and seeing the predatory look in his eyes, Millicent did the only thing that she could do; she made a desperate attempt to flee to the door and safety.


	14. It Happened One Night

She managed to reach the door and was about to yank it open, only to have her efforts thwarted as a large hand slammed against the door just above her head.

"No, duchess, you are not leaving this room until we have settled a few matters."

Millicent could hear the determination in Bertie's voice. Slowly, she turned around to face him. It was alarming to have him looming so near. She felt trapped between him and the door even though he was not touching her. Her voice only slightly betrayed her nervousness as she ordered, "Remove your hand, Bertrand Sparrow. I wish to leave the room and no true gentleman would ever prevent me from doing so."

Bertie chuckled. Millicent's bravado was amusing to watch. Did she really think that her words would matter? "Since you have on several occasions reminded me that you do not believe me to be a gentleman, I fail to understand why you think that I would act as one now. Care to try another argument?"

Scowling at his comment, Millicent tried to think of another tactic. He was correct. She had often told him that he was no gentleman and he was proving it spades right now. "I don't care to talk about this matter, Mr. Sparrow. It is improper and my fiancé would most certainly disapprove. You really can not wish to annoy the Duke, can you?"

Smiling at her thinly veiled threat, Bertie pretended to consider her statement. A wide grin split his face as a new game occurred to him. "I think that I can safely say that he would most definitely approve of us having a friendly chat. He has informed me that he would be most distressed if we were not able to rub along at least tolerably well. The Duke places a lot of value on family."

"You've seen him recently?" Millicent could not keep an eager and somewhat frustrated tone from her voice. Bertie had been with her fiancé and discussing her? "What did you tell him?"

"Relax, duchess, I refrained from telling tales out of school. What about you? Is there any reason why he was insistent upon discussing you with me? What did you tell him?" Bertie leaned in even closer and Millicent backed up until the door would permit no more movement.

"I told him nothing. How could I? I've yet to even me…" Millicent caught herself just in time. She was not going to let Bertie know that she was engaged to a man that she had never even met. No doubt that he would have some scathing remark to make to about that fact. "Never you mind what he and I discuss, Bertrand Sparrow. It is enough that you know I am engaged and do not welcome your untoward advances. Now, remove your hand from this door so that I may take my leave of you."

Bertie ignored her command. Her words might carry more meaning if her pupils weren't dilating, her breathing shallow and her pebbled nipples straining at her silk bodice. Deny it all that she might, Millicent's delectable body betrayed her reaction to his proximity. He lifted his free hand and lightly brushed the back of it against her cheek.

Millicent could not stifle her gasp at his gentle touch. She had thought he might grab at her and had mentally prepared herself. However, the tenderness of his action took her by surprise and slipped under her defenses. Like a pinned butterfly, she could do nothing but flutter helplessly as his mouth drew closer to hers. She knew that he was going to kiss her. Worse yet, she wanted him to more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.

As his firm, cool lips covered hers, she asked herself, "_What harm can one little kiss do? It will be a goodbye kiss. A chance to banish him from my mind forever_." Seconds later, she knew exactly what harm could occur. Her entire body felt as if were afire and all rational thought fled. Twining her arms around his neck, she pulled Bertie closer.

Bertie need no further encouragement. One hand cradled the back of her head, holding it still so that he could deepen the kiss. The other hand found its way to her plump little derrière, yanking her so close to him that not a whisper of air could flow between them.

It was as if someone had held a lit match to a heap of rags soaked in oil; the conflagration had taken only a moment to ignite and grew stronger with each passing second. For several minutes, there were no sounds in the room save for the whisper of material sliding against material as limbs entwined in a desperate attempt to fuse even closer together and the occasional gasp of a hard won breath. Using every ounce of his resolve, Bertie at last pulled away and strode halfway across the room.

Slumping against the door, Millicent watched Bertie's back as his shoulders heaved up and down in an attempt to regain normalcy in breathing. Her tongue swept across her mouth in an attempt to soothe her burning lips. She was surprised when she tasted the unmistakably metallic taste of blood.

"Duchess, you would be wise to leave this room right now, while you still can. I won't be held accountable for my actions if you're still here when I turn around."

Millicent smiled at Bertie's mixture of chivalry and bullying. However, despite his unconventional method of warning her, he was correct. The fire between them was dangerous and likely to rekindle at any moment. The problem was that she wanted it to reignite. She liked the blazing passion that he stirred in her. He was the only man to ever do so and Millicent was afraid that this might be her one chance to feel the delicious pleasures that Elizabeth, Katherine and Val were always gossiping about when they thought her out of earshot.

Would it really be so terrible to give herself one night with him? One night before she entered into marriage with an elderly, decrepit old man? Millicent hushed the voice that told her she had no basis to think the Duke was decrepit. She wanted this one night with Bertie regardless of the right or wrong of it.

Swallowing her nervousness over what she was about to do, Millicent whispered, "I'm not going away, Bertrand Sparrow."

Bertie whirled around, ready to yell at her for being deliberately difficult. What he saw stopped his words. Millicent was looking at him with the same hunger that he was feeling for her. He started towards her and then checked himself. "Millicent, this is not a game. If this starts again tonight, it will most assuredly end in the loss of your innocence." He expected his bald statement to produce embarrassment in her and send her fleeing from the room.

Instead, she stood straighter and calmly answered, "I know that Bertie. I am inexperienced, not daft. This is what I want. I am tired of fighting it. You are the only man to ever make me feel like this and that has got to count for something."

A tension filled silence stretched between them. Bertie was busy trying to quiet the nagging voice of conscience that filled his head. Millicent watched as the conflicting emotions played across his face. Finally, she could stand it no longer. Feeling humiliated, she turned to the door and began to open it. "Fine. If you no longer want me, I shall keep looking until I fi…" Her tirade ended in a shriek as Bertie swept her up into his arms and yanked the door open.

As he swept up the stairs with her, Millicent protested. "What on earth are you doing? The servants!"

"They're well paid and will hold their tongues." Bertie did not even break stride while answering her. With ridiculous ease, he carried her up to her bed chamber. Once inside, he deposited her back on her feet and locked the door.

The whirlwind of activity over, an awkward pause ensued. Millicent, never having done this sort of thing, felt out of her element and was unsure of what to say or do. Bertie, having engaged in this sort of activity many a time, was surprised to find himself nervous. Oh, it was not the act itself that concerned him; it was the fear that Millicent would regret was about to happen and later blame him for trapping her into marriage. He had to be certain that she was fully cognizant of what she was doing. With this thought in mind, he went over to the bed, sat down and removed his boots. Then he casually lay down on the bed, propped up against the pillows.

"Bertie?" Millicent stayed by the door, not knowing what the next step should be.

"Take off your nightdress, duchess."

"What?" She was sure that she had not heard him correctly. Not even Bertie was so bold as to such an outrageous demand.

"Sweetheart, you're going to have to remove your clothing if you wish to make love. I am not the type of man to settle for furtive gropes under a blanket. Now, if you still wish to do this, remove your gown."

Several long moments passed. Bertie knew that he was being hard on her, but it was necessary. She had to come to him. She had to want him so much as a man that she was willing to forgo her usual games and coyness. It was the only way that he could be assured that he meant more to her than a title. No doubt she would be delighted when she learned of his social status but he wanted that to be secondary. He wanted her to value the man above the peerage. Furthermore, he had been honest about his carnal appetites. In no way was he willing to settle for a wife who viewed bedroom relations as a mere performance of marital duties.

Nervously biting her lip, Millicent considered the demand. Honestly, she had never expected such a scandalous command from him. Part of her resented it but another part of her sensed that he was not doing it to be mean or spiteful. This meant something to him. What it meant, she had no idea, but obviously he found it important. And, if Millicent were truthful with herself, she found the outrageous suggestion titillating. Deciding that she may as well be in for a pound as a penny, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and drew the thin nightdress over her head. She heard the material hit the ground as she released it from her suddenly nerveless fingers.

After what seemed an eternity with no response from him, Millicent opened her eyes. Bertie remained on the bed with his hands casually laced behind his head. His was perfectly still except for his eyes which brazenly assessed what was on display. Slowly, a lazy, arrogant grin crossed his face.

"Turn around. I wish to see all of you."

With a gulp, Millicent complied. She could feel his gaze on her and felt a flush spread across her cheeks. She could not help but wonder if he was pleased with what he saw. Fighting the urge to cover her private parts, she completed her turn and once again faced him. He looked like a sultan surveying a newly purchased harem girl. A delicious shiver slid up her spine and she felt her breasts swell as if in reaction to a physical caress- his stare was that potent.

Bertie watched as the emotions danced across her face. She seemed torn between outrage and raw desire. He wondered how far he could push before she would rebel. Unless he was mistaken, it would likely be pretty far. Her shallow breathing and ruched nipples openly betrayed her favorable reaction to his tactics. By chance, he had just discovered a secret about Miss Millicent Witherspoon. She might verbally deny it but her body did not lie; Millicent liked the fact that he was the one in control. He let out a soft snort of satisfaction at that notion. It boded well for their future as man and wife, for he most certainly intended to be the only one wearing the breeches in this family- figuratively in bed and literally out of bed.

"Come here and stand next to me."

Her limbs feeling heavy with the drug of desire, Millicent obeyed. When she reached his side, her confidence faltered for a second and she took a step backwards and instinctively shielded her chest from his prying eyes.

Bertie sharply ordered, "No, Millicent. Place your hands and arms back down. You will not come to me as a shy schoolgirl. You'll come to me as a woman or not at all. I promise that I shall do everything to make this enjoyable for you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Millicent somehow managed to choke out the word past her dry throat. Her heart was pounding so hard that she thought it would leap out of her chest.

Taking pity on her, Bertie slid out of bed and drew her into his embrace. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, duchess. You are perfection." His lips covered hers in a soft kiss. But the tenderness was soon overtaken by a rush of desire.

Millicent wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back with all her might. All fear fled as sensations overwhelmed her. The feel of the friction as her bare skin rubbed against his clothing was almost unbearably erotic. Somehow, it made her feel more naked than naked. A ribbon of tension unfurled in her abdomen and she felt the moistness begin to gather between her thighs. He smelled fresh and clean, unlike the heavily perfumed young dandies that she'd been associating with for the past few weeks. It occurred to her that she'd missed his scent, it was unique to him. His hands roamed freely over her curves, leaving her skin overly sensitized wherever they touched. Soon she was shamelessly writhing against him: desperate to get even closer. A whimper of protest passed her lips as he drew away.

Bertie chuckled at her lament. He had never lain with a virgin before but he had always heard that they were shy and required a great deal of coaxing. Evidently, as in many things, Millicent did not fit the mold. In this case, Bertie was most fervently thankful for her deviation from the norm. "Hush, dearest. I am not going anywhere but I am a touch overdressed for this evening's activities." He unclasped her hands from his shoulders and stepped back. "Undress me."

There was no hesitation on Millicent's part. Like a child on Christmas morning, she eagerly unwrapped her gift. As each new patch of his skin was revealed, she was amazed at how fascinating she found his body. At last her eyes could see the muscles in his arms and chest that she had only ever felt beneath layers of clothing. Last week, Kat had surreptitiously taken her on an outing to the museum. There they'd viewed many ancient Greek and Roman statues so she was not wholly unprepared for the site now before her. But marble and flesh were two very different things. Slowly she traced her hands across his chest: marveling at how his flesh was at once both hard and yielding. Her fingertips brushed against his nipples and she was surprised when they formed tight buds that mirrored her own. Impulsively, her tongue darted out and she licked at one. When this produced a strangled gasp from him, she repeated the gesture on the other one.

It took a great deal of effort for Bertie not to lift her up, throw her on the bed and plunge into her. Her explorations were driving him crazy: all the more so because she was proving to be a strange mixture of innocent and harlot. Where the hell had she learned that trick with her tongue? He'd never suckled at her breasts and he'd be willing to bet no other man had. Most likely she was operating on instinct and she obviously had damn good instincts. His cock throbbed as he imagined soon returning the favor to her, in spades. This thought soon fled as her hand brushed across his groin and her fingers began working the buttons free of his breeches. It was only by silently repeating Latin conjugations that he managed to refrain from spilling his seed then and there. Millicent was going to be the death of him yet.

When he was as bare as she, Millicent stepped back and let herself examine him. Feeling emboldened, she repeated his earlier order, "Turn around. I want to see all of you."

Bertie decided to fulfill her demand. He could afford to grant her a few moments of power before firmly retaking the reins. When they were once again face to face, he noticed that her gaze was firmly fixed between his legs and that she had grown very still.

"Enjoying the view, duchess?"

Caught staring, Millicent flushed and blurted out what was on her mind, "It will never fit. This won't work."

Unable to help himself, Bertie laughed at her naïveté. As brazen as she might be acting, she was still so untouched.

Feeling nervous and defensive, Millicent huffed, "Fine. Laugh at me. Perhaps this was not such a good idea. I think you should leave now."

Bertie recognized her words for what they were and overrode her suggestion. "Oh no, duchess, I am not going anywhere until the early hours of the morning. By then, I expect you'll understand how very well we fit together and I shall be intimately acquainted with every inch of your delectable body. Now, climb into bed."

Not caring for his tone, Millicent raised an eyebrow and prompted, "I did not hear a please."

Swearing under his breath, Bertie picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. Evidently, he'd allowed her to have her lead for too long. It was time to reharness her and demonstrate who was in charge here. "That would be because there was none to hear," he blithely informed her.

Then he crawled into the bed and did what he had been dreaming about for months. His mouth fastened over the tip of one pert breast and he licked, suckled and nipped to his heart's content. In a matter of moments, she was emitting the most pleasing whimpers of need and passion. Her hands clenched into his hair trying to pull him closer.

He pulled back for a moment and stared down at her with a smug grin. "Like that do you? But what about this one?" His fingers lightly brushed across her left breast which seemed to be fairly begging to receive the same attentions that its twin had received. "It must be feeling neglected. Would you like me to pay it some attention?"

"Yes. Oh, yes. Now," Millicent panted.

Smiling roguishly, he observed," I don't believe that I heard a please."

Her eyes flew to his. Surely he could not be serious? But when he merely stared back at her and the raised his eyebrow, she knew that he was determined to extract his pound of flesh for her earlier defiance. Pride be damned. She would go mad if he did not continue. "Please. Please, Bertie."

"My pleasure, duchess." His mouth began to lavish attention to one peak as his fingers toyed with the other. Suddenly, her limbs tensed and her back arched up off the bed. She emitted a muffled scream and collapsed back on the bed, shuddering and gasping for breath. She lay there wide eyed and dazed. Bertie gaped at her in wonder. Watching her climax had stripped him of any remaining self-control. Without another thought, he plunged into her and past the delicate barrier that attested to her innocence.

Millicent knew a moment of pain at his sudden invasion but it was fleeting and soon melted into a sense of delicious completeness. He had been correct. They did fit together. As he slowly began to move in and out of her, she felt a now familiar tension begin to build up in her. When he shifted and covered her mouth with his own, she caught a glimpse of the look in his eyes and knew that he was experiencing the same delirium of pleasure.

He whispered, "Sorry, sweetheart, but I can not hold on much longer. Come on, spend for me again. Join me." His lips once again found a breast and the next thing they knew both of them were clenched together and shaking as each fell into the chasm of fulfillment.

Several minutes later, both had finally regained their breath. Bertie was stunned at how perfectly they meshed together in their passions. He was somewhat ashamed that her introduction to lovemaking had ended in such a rushed frenzy, but he consoled himself with the thought that he had a lifetime to make it up to her. He would obtain a special license and their wedding would take place within a fortnight.

Millicent was near to tears. She had never dreamt that anything could feel so very wonderful. But this had been wrong and now her punishment would be a lifetime of knowing exactly what she was missing. She drew up the sheet around her and began to scoot towards the edge of the bed, wanting to escape before she made a fool of herself. A hand stayed her progress.

"Where are you going, Millicent? I told you that we would not be finished until dawn and I meant it. Now come back here and be still while I regain my strength."

It did not take long for Millicent to argue herself out of the need for her to leave as soon as possible. The delights he promised sounded enticing. What harm could a few more hours cause? After all, it was only one night and then he would be out of her life forever. She'd make sure that she and the Duke married as soon as possible. She'd find some ploy to bring him to her side and down the aisle. But for tonight…


	15. There's Got to be a Morning After

A/N: Sorry about the delay in updating. I was in a play and my time was limited. Updates should once again regularly occur. Please PM me with any typos that you spot. It's late at night and I am certain that I have overlooked many of them.

* * *

"Mister Boots, get off of me." Millicent grumpily shoved at the offending weight at her mid-section. It did not budge. Into her pillow she muttered, "Go away, you annoying beast." The sound of a soft chuckle penetrated her sleep fogged mind and drove her into instant wakefulness. Mister Boots did not chuckle! In fact, Mister Boots was still in Port Royal and she, Millicent, was here in London. As the events of a few hours ago came creeping back into her consciousness, Millicent kept her face buried in her pillow: embarrassed and unsure of what to say or do in this situation.

"Quit playing possum, duchess. It will soon be dawn and I need to take my leave before the servants awake."

"That did not seem to bother you last night!" The tart reply was quick in coming.

Bertie chuckled. Even after hours of abandoned and enjoyable lovemaking, Millicent was quick with the acerbic comment. Obviously, she was not the type of woman to bask for long in the afterglow. That was just fine with him. He had taught her several enjoyable means of keeping her sharp tongue otherwise employed. One of which he intended to employ right now. Grasping her shoulder, he rolled her over onto her back and then covered her mouth with his.

In moments their tongues were entangled and Millicent was arching up in an attempt to get closer to him. All embarrassment forgotten, she wriggled and rubbed against him. The soft hairs on his chest tickled and tormented her already sensitized nipples. Her mind protested at how quickly he once again reduced her to a quivering mass of jelly but her body gloried in the sensations he so easily evoked. The thought that a lifetime of this pleasure might indeed be more valuable than a title and wealth had firmly lodged in her mind during the past few hours. She had a more than generous dowry so they would not be paupers. And it was very likely that her father would take Bertie under his wing and into the business. As her mind considered the possibilities, Millicent became more and more assured that they could make this work. Of course, it would require some sacrifices but the rewards were more than adequate. Millicent was just about to voice this thought when Bertie's fingers found their way to the cleft between her legs. She decided that discussion could wait until later.

* * *

The sun had already more than half risen when both of the room's occupants were at last ready to speak again. Unfortunately they both started at the same time.

"Bertie, I think we should...."

"Duchess, we really need to discuss..."

They both paused and then again at the same time spoke.

"Go ahead, Bertie. What were you going to say?"

"The floor is yours, duchess. Ladies first."

After a few minutes laughter over the situation, Millicent managed to say, "You go first, Bertie. I need a few minutes to catch my breath anyway." While this was indeed true, Millicent was also feeling uncertain of what she was about to propose to Bertie. Did he really care enough about her to desire marriage? His next words reassured her.

"Millicent, I shall still need to contact your father to formally request your hand in marriage but perhaps we should start making plans sooner rather than later?"

Millicent's heart soared. She was not even going to have to bring the topic up. Bertie himself had mentioned marriage. Happy and in a playful mood, she adopted her prettiest pout and pretended to complain, "Why Mr. Bertrand Sparrow, you are awfully presumptuous. I do already have a fiancé you know. Why you haven't been bothered to get down on one knee." Though she tried to make her voice stern, she could not keep the smile from her lips or the sparkle of happiness from her eyes.

Bertie looked at her relaxed and content face and heaved a sigh of relief. He had been more than a tad worried about what her reaction might be. Obviously, he had worried for naught. Assured of her affection and agreement, he flippantly replied, "Well it's not like you or even I have much choice in the matter, duchess. After last night, marriage is our only option." He rolled out of bed and began to get dressed. Their marriage might soon be a fait accompli but it still would not do for others to see him leaving her bedchamber. He was sitting down and drawing on his boots before he registered the complete silence in the room. Turning, he expected to see that she had somehow managed to fall back asleep. So much for the romance of the situation.

"Duchess, wake u..." His words trailed off as he came face to face with an obviously furious Millicent.

Millicent was rendered speechless by hurt. He was only marrying her because he had to. No words of love or even affection had passed from his lips. Anger came to her rescue and gave her back her voice. Icicles dripping from her words, she muttered through clenched teeth, "I do not believe that I have agreed to marry you, Mister Sparrow. As I said earlier, I do have a fiancé. A duke to be precise. Perhaps you have forgotten that little inconvenient fact."

"No more so than you did last night and this morning, duchess. I don't recall any mention of your fiancé in between your little coos and whimpers of pleasure." Bertie was aware that his words were crude but Millicent's sudden change in demeanor had thrown him for a loop. One minute she was a warm and obviously sated woman and the next minute she'd turned into a shrewish wasp. He knew that women could be moody but this was ridiculous. "Now, we need to set a date. I am certain that Katherine and Val will be more than happy to assist you with the plans. We should be able to have the bans read and the marriage ceremony take place within a fortnight."

In a somewhat louder voice, Millicent pointed out, "As I just said, Mr. Sparrow, I have not agreed to marry you. Nor do I intend to. Please finish dressing and leave my room." With this statement, she threw a pillow at him and drew the covers over her head.

For several moments, Bertie just stared at the lump on the bed. When and how had this train derailed? Annoyance at her silliness grew and he angrily finished dressing- all the while thinking about how to get things back on track. He decided that the direct approach was the one to take. "Stop acting like a spoiled chit, Millicent. I realize that this may not be the ideal proposal but after last night we have no choice but to marry. I'll write to your father this morning."

Millicent sat up in bed and yelled, "Don't you dare, Bertie Sparrow. Why I wouldn't marry you if you were the very last man alive."

Bertie yelled back, "You will indeed marry me, Millicent Witherspoon. I will not have my good name sullied by it being said that I ruined a young girl and did not do the honorable thing by her. Yours is not the only reputation at stake. You might wish to occasionally think of others."

"Why you..." Millicent's shrieking response was interrupted by a knock at the door.

In unison, they both shouted, "Go away!"

There was a loud cough and then, "I am afraid that I can't do that. Your voices have attracted the attention of the household. As her official chaperone, I think it best that we all have a chat and that chat will be better conducted with all of us in one room. Now please unlock the door."

Bertie and Millicent looked at each other; both appalled by the calm and measured voice of James Norrington. How utterly humiliating to be caught in such a situation. Millicent leapt out of bed and quickly threw on a dressing gown as Bertie tried in vain to smooth the twisted sheets on the bed that bore testament to their recent activities.

Another knock came followed by, "Sparrow let me in that room. I do not wish to have to call you out but I shall if necessary."

Millicent dragged a brush through her tangled hair and whispered, "For goodness sake, Bertie, don't be an ass. Let him in."

As he unlocked the door, Bertie quipped, "It's comforting to know that you care about my hide, duchess." He opened the door and Norrington strode in followed closely by Katherine.

"Katherine, go back to our room."

'No, James. This matter concerns me as well. I am the one who convinced Mr. Witherspoon to allow Millicent to come to London. Besides, it would be highly improper for Millicent to be alone in her room with two men."

James and Bertie both snorted at this observation. Neither of the women was amused. But before Kat could make an acerbic reply, a voice from the threshold dryly commented, "Is this the new fashion then? To gather in a lady's boudoir for a pre-breakfast tête-à-tête? Hmm.. perhaps my father was correct and I'll grow to like living by high society's rules."

"Jack why are you..." Valentine stopped short as she saw the crowd gathered in Millicent's room. "Ah... we're back. Apparently we have some catching up to do?"

Katherine grabbed Val's arm and dragged her into the room. "Thank goodness you're here. We need to sort out this mess."

Bertie took a deep breath to calm himself. "Excuse me, Katherine, but as much as I appreciate your concern there is nothing to sort out. However, I would be very grateful if you and Val would assist Millicent in the planning of our wedding."

The room was stunned into silence. Then James clapped Bertie on the back. "Then everything is fine. A tad unconventional but fine. I think I can safely give permission on behalf of her father. When were you thinking of having the ceremony?"

"Given the circumstances, I think everyone would agree the sooner we take care of it the better."

"Ah, my cousin is eager to enjoy the delights of wedded bliss. See, Valentine, I was right when I told my father that I could be a good influence on Bertie. And to think he didn't believe me. Such a shame when a father so distrusts his own son."

"Jack, stop it. This is serious. We have a wedding to plan. Oh, Millicent, I'm so very happy for you." Val rushed over to hug her friend.

Millicent sidestepped her friend's embrace. "There is nothing to be happy about. Mr. Sparrow and I are most decidedly not getting married. In case everyone has forgotten, I am engaged to the Duke of Wildbourne. What's more, I have every intention of marrying him and only him."

"Now see here, Millicent, you've obviously spent the night with a gentleman. Marriage to him is not an option, it is a necessity. Surely you can see that?"

"That's for her to decide, James. Stop being so autocratic," Katherine contradicted her husband.

"Autocratic? I am merely stating the obvious. Bertie and Millicent must wed. Any fool can see that."

"Fool? Are you calling me a fool? How dare you, James Norrington?" Katherine stood on her tiptoes so that she was nose to nose with her husband. "Millicent does not have to marry anyone that she does not wish to marry. I will make certain of that."

"Oh really, Mrs. Norrington? And how, pray tell, do you intend to do that? I believe that once news of this is out she will be shunned by society if she is not wed."

"I think the Duke will protect her from such talk. With them getting married no one would dare to speak ill of Millicent. Besides, if none of us say anything, then no one need know."

"You would condone her cuckolding the Duke like that? I can not believe what I am hearing. You and I need to have as serious discussion, Mrs. Norrington. The sooner the better." James took his wife by the arm and began escorting her out of the room. They were stopped by a loud clearing of the throat from Jack.

"If the two of you are through, I do believe that we have a wedding to arrange. I love weddings."

Millicent shrilly screamed and stamped her foot. "There is nothing to arrange. I am not marrying Bertrand Sparrow. I am marrying the Duke and none of you will stop me from doing so."

Her outburst silenced the room. For a few minutes everyone stood quietly, uncertain of what to say or do. Then Bertie gave a rather mirthless chuckle. "You all heard her. I have done the honorable thing and asked for her hand in marriage. She has made her disdain for my offer quite clear. As a mere commoner, I am beneath her notice. Millicent is intent upon having her Duke and so I shall leave her to him. Good luck bringing him to heel, duchess. You may well find that he's not as easy to control as you'd like to think. Though I have absolutely no doubts that you'll end up married to him, I am equally certain that Wildbourne will extract some form of retribution when he learns of your deceitfulness." Bertie strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Once again the room was silenced. The remaining occupants looked at each other uneasily, not sure if they should remain or take their leave. The tableau was broken when Millicent burst into tears and threw herself onto the bed. At the sight of a weeping woman, Jack and James could not exit quickly enough. Meanwhile, Katherine and Val remained to comfort their friend.


	16. Battle Plans

The decanter clinked against the glasses as Jack poured generous measures of whiskey. Gaily he handed the drinks to other men. Grinning mischievously he proclaimed, "Ah, a wedding. I love weddings. Drinks all around!"

Bertie clenched his fists to keep from using them on Jack. Even as a child, Jack had always been able to get his goat and provoke him into a fight. Countless were the times that one or the other (in most cases both) of them ended up sporting a black eye or bloodied nose. But those days were long gone. He was now the Duke of Wildbourne and a scuffle in the library would not exactly fit his station in life. Damnation, there were times he really loathed having inherited the blasted title. "Is this why you dragged me back here, Jack? To have fun at my expense? If that is all I'm here for, then I shall be leaving. It was a long night and it's been an even longer morning."

"My dear cousin, cheer up. I'd have thought you'd be in a frame of mind after an evening of such pleasurable activities. You've won your fair maiden's heart and hand."

"Well, Jack, in case it escaped your notice, the lady flatly refuses to marry me."

"A mere technicality. A mere technicality. The said lady in question declared her intentions of marrying the Duke of Wildbourne. You are said Duke. Ipso facto, said lady has insisted upon marrying you. Therefore, we have a wedding to plan, savvy?"

Before Bertie could reply, the door opened and Katherine strode in and headed straight for the drinks cabinet without sparing a glance for the three men occupying the room. She grabbed the sherry and three glasses and headed back towards the door.

"A bit early in day, don't you think?" James asked.

Katherine turned, stared at the glass in her husband's hand and raised an eyebrow. "What's good for the gander is good for the goose. Now, if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I have a rather distraught friend to attend to." Her statement was punctuated by a glare in Bertie's direction. Balancing the glasses and decanter in one hand, she managed to slam the door behind her.

Jack chortled at her angry exit. "Looks like your bed will be a bit cold for awhile, mate. Your charming wife seems to have tarred you with the same brush as Bertie."

James grimaced in acknowledgment of the truth of Jack's observation. Taking a seat in one of the armchairs, he settled in comfortably and sipped at his whiskey. He took a moment to savor the flavor before replying. "Ah, yes. Kat is definitely upset by this matter. Though I am a bit surprised she did not support the marriage. She's been on Bertie's side all along. I swear that women are the most irrational creatures ever created."

" As far as irrationality goes, Millicent definitely takes the cake. What kind of young woman gives her maidenhood to a man and then refuses his offer of marriage? Damn and blast, usually it is just the opposite and they are insisting upon marriage for a mere kiss upon the cheek."

Jack opened his mouth to make a wisecrack, but one look at the dejection clearly written on his cousin's face stayed his tongue. He'd never seen Bertie look so defeated before.

"I guess she really does only care about the title and wealth. I was so certain that when she decided to...to.... Well, I was certain it meant that she must care about me. I guess that I was wrong in my assumptions. And now, like it or not, we'll be bound together for life." He gave a small, mirthless laugh. "Millicent will have her title and I'll have a wife who tolerates me for the gold in my pocket."

This maudlin statement was too much for Jack to tolerate and he quipped, "In other words, you'll have the perfect society marriage. Well done, Bertie. Your father would be proud."

"Jack, you're not helping the situation."

"No, James, he's right. I shall have the very thing that I never wanted."

"To the contrary, Bertie, he is not correct. Shall we approach this issue logically? Being married to Kat, I am well aware that the fairer sex can be contrary and illogical creatures. Yet, I am also aware that they are ruled by sentiment. No young woman would lay with a man who had not captured her heart."

Seeing how his cousin perked up at James' pronouncement, Jack refrained from mentioning that he had known many a woman, like Giselle or Scarlet, who had no trouble at all sharing their body with a man they did not love. He knew it would not go over too well if he compared Bertie's love to Tortugian whore. Besides, he had to admit that, though limited his recent experience with ladies of breeding might be, James had at least half the equation correct. "My dear friend the Commodore is somewhat naive. While it is true that a young woman prefers to fancy herself in love before engaging in the delights of the flesh, it is also true that she will do so upon her wedding night with a gentleman that she can barely tolerate. Provided his purse is large enough. However, since your Millicent is still convinced that you are but a poor relation, we must conclude that it was indeed an unbounded affection that drove her into your arms. Ergo, you must have done something to displease the lady."

Bertie slammed his glass on the table and glared at Jack.

"Oh calm down and quit acting like a fresh whelp. I am not impugning your skills at the delights of the flesh. I was merely wondering what you said to her. How did you propose? Did you flatter her enough? Or did you make the same mistake as our staid friend here and approach it as a business matter?" Jack watched as a flush suffused his cousin's face. "Aha! I knew it! How badly did you bungle it? You'd have to have done pretty damn poorly to beat James' mistake."

"Excuse me, Sparrow, but I seem to recall that the course of true love did not run smoothly for you and Val. Exactly how long were you married before enjoying wedded bliss?"

Jack waived his hand airily. "Ah, but, my dear Commodore, the point is that we were married. Valentine married me the very night that I proposed. Can you or Bertie claim the same? The rest was mere happenstance."

"Happenstance? She killed you off in a fictitious war."

"Yes, but she made me a hero."

"I hardly think that..."

James did not have the chance to voice his opinion as Bertie loudly interrupted the squabbling, "Gentleman, I believe that I am the one with the problem at the moment. Can we concentrate on that?" He drained his glass, leaned back and closed his eyes in exhaustion. Good Lord, he had been an idiot. Now that he thought about he had not actually proposed. Perhaps it would be simplest to eat humble pie and explain everything to Millicent but that would be a piss poor way to begin a marriage. Millicent would end up thinking that she had the upper hand and that would never do. Besides, there was still her attitude regarding wealth and titles to contend with.

"Well, cousin, what do you intend to do?"

Bertie mumbled, "I do not know. I have to get her to agree to marry me but it needs to be on my terms. Damn it all. I would fall in love with the one young woman in all of London who is addled enough to think that she can give herself to one man and still marry another."

James drained the rest of his drink and went over to the desk. With an air of determination, he pulled out some parchment and opened the inkwell. "Don't give up, Bertie. You simply need a plan of attack and, fortunately for you, I'm a master at those." At Jack's disparaging snort, he added, "I belong to the King's Navy and have a great deal of expertise in battle tactics. Besides, if you recall, Sparrow, it was my idea that led to your finally your convincing Val to honor her marriage vows."

"I'll give you that, James. Yet, if I recollect correctly, you required a bit of assistance to win the lovely Kat's affections."

For the next ten minutes the two men continued bickering about who was the better strategist. Finally, they agreed that by joining forces and combining their individual brilliance at wooing, they were certain to design a winning battle plan for Bertie. Meanwhile, Bertie had fallen asleep and was gently snoring on the settee.

* * *

Katherine used her foot to kick shut the door behind her. "Can you believe that James had the nerve to question me?"

"Well, Katherine, is it a tad early in the morning for drinking. We've yet to even break our fast."

"It's only sherry, Val. With what Millicent has been through, it's medicinal in nature. Besides, the three of them are down there guzzling scotch. I hardly think they have room to talk."

At the words "three of them"', the sobbing heap on the bed stilled for the first time since the men had left the room. With a decided lack of grace, Millicent pushed herself into a sitting position. Her hair was a mess and her nose an angry red. "The three of them?" she sniffled.

After pouring generous servings of the spirits, Katherine handed the glasses to Val and Millicent and then perched on the edge of the bed. She sipped the drink and enjoyed the fortifying flavor. Then, with her usual forthrightness, she tackled the problem head on, "James, Jack and Bertie are downstairs and as thick as thieves. If I know my husband, he's hatching some harebrained scheme to entrap you. Men always go about things in the most difficult way possible. So, we need to decide what we are going to do about this mess. The question is: do you wish to be trapped?"

"No! Yes! I don't know," Millicent wailed and then resumed her crying.

"Enough of your caterwauling, Millicent. It's not going to do any good and it hampers our own plotting. Now it's a simple enough question. Do you love Bertie?"

"Really, Katherine, you needn't be so harsh. It's no wonder she's overwrought. The poor child has had a long, eventful and I daresay sleepless night."

Rather than take offense at Val's admonishment, Katherine found the humor in the situation. Tartly she replied, "Perhaps if she had slept last night instead of.... Well if she had slept, she would not be in this situation."

Val's and Katherine's eyes met and they burst into laughter. Millicent looked at both of them and stopped her crying. She gave a tremulous smile, then a chuckle and soon she was laughing outright. Her despair vanished. It felt wonderful to finally understand what Val, Katherine and Elizabeth were always whispering about when they thought her out of earshot. Whatever else resulted from last night's activities, she would never regret at last feeling as if she truly was a peer of the three women she so admired. Shyly, she asked the question that had been on her mind all night, "Is it always like that? I mean even after you've been together for awhile?"

Katherine pretended to adopt a censorious tone, "As an unmarried, young lady, you should not be discussing these matters." The effect was ruined when a snort of merriment escaped. Leaning forward, she clasped Millicent's hands in hers and conspiratorially whispered, "No, it's not always like that. It's better. Once they get over the absurd worry that you'll break from too much handling, things become ever so much more exciting. James has demonstrated an inventive streak that I would never have guessed he possessed."

"That was never an issue with Jack. Pirate, remember?"

"But that's not true! Jack was exceptionally gentle when he was with me. Why he ..." her sentence trailed off when Valentine loudly cleared her throat.

"Katherine, there are after all some things even the best of friends should not discuss."

"Oh, don't be silly, Val. You know that Jack was never interested in me. Why that was the whole problem. The damn man refused to seduce me even when I threw myself at him. Pirate indeed! Why the man always acted the gentleman even when he denied his heritage."

"Let's leave the subject alone. Suffice to say that Jack and gentleman are not two words that I would put together when discussing acts of intimacy. He may have a noble lineage but his blue blood definitely does not equate to cold blood. Speaking of blue blood, I have some news to share. But first, let's get back to the matter at hand. Millicent, given what happened last night, is it fair to assume that Bertie has indeed engaged your heart?"

The room was silent except for the chirping of birds outside the window. Millicent considered her response. She knew the answer to Valentine's question but she was unsure if she was ready to share her discovery. The recent events had overwhelmed and confused her. On the one hand, she wanted more than anything to marry Bertie- money and title be damned. On the other hand, she only wanted to marry Bertie if he really wanted to marry her- not if he was only doing so out of duty. With what was certain to be a lack of funds, their marriage would face enough challenges without adding a growing resentment to the mix. A subdued Millicent quietly admitted as much to her friends and was taken aback when Val shrieked with delight.

"Perfect! Absolutely perfect! Oh, I knew that it would work out in the end. Now we just need to figure out how to proceed." Val ran over to the escritoire, drew out some paper and sat poised to write. "We need a battle plan. Katherine, James is in the military; surely you've picked up some strategies from him. Now, think!"

Both Millicent and Katherine simply stared at Valentine as if she had lost her mind. Neither could understand why she was so excited and happy. The dilemma that Millicent voiced was very real and no trifling matter. Many a forced marriage ended in misery, especially when inadequate funds were involved.

"Come on you two..." Val stopped when she saw the puzzlement on the other women's faces. Realizing that she had forgotten to impart a very important bit of information, she set about rectifying the omission. With seeming nonchalance, she announced, "I had the most illuminating and edifying time while visiting Jack's father. It was amazing how much of the family history I learned from merely wandering throughout the estate."

Millicent and Katherine continued to stare at her with incomprehension.

Valentine knew that the news she was about to announce would cause a stir in the room. Relishing the drama of the moment, she drew out her story. "One rainy afternoon, I spent the entire day wandering from room to room. I got lost no less than three times. I find it hard to believe that Jack grew up in that dreary mausoleum of a place. No wonder he chose the freedom of the sea. Despite its vast size that house is positively suffocating in nature."

Katherine interrupted her friend's prattling, "Val, I assume that there is a point to your story? Cut to the chase. It's not like you to blather on so much."

Valentine smiled. "Indeed there is a point. I'm sorry to have gotten carried away but it is just so delicious that I wanted to savor the moment. Jack must be rubbing off on me more than I realized. At any rate, that afternoon I wandered into the portrait gallery and guess what I saw?" When neither of the room's occupants answered, Val continued, "There, large as life, was a portrait of Bertie."

"Val, I've known all along that Bertie and Jack are cousins. I don't understand why you think that helps matters at all? A poor relation is still a poor relation no matter how wealthy and generous his relation may be."

"I second what Millicent just said," chimed in Katherine.

"Don't you two understand? There was a portrait, a life size portrait of Bertie!" Glancing at the faces of the other women, Val knew that they still missed her point. Somewhat exasperated, she spelled it out for them, "Poor relations do not warrant having portraits painted and hung the family gallery. And they most certainly do not have nameplates attached that read, 'Duke of Wildbourne'." Val went and poured herself another sherry as she waited for the import of her words to sink in.

When it did, the reaction was all that she had hoped for and more. Both Millicent and Katherine shrieked and began talking at once, peppering her with questions. She a hand to silence them and began answering each question in turn," No' Jack did not tell me. Yes, I am certain that it is Bertie-I asked some servants and they raved about young Master Bertie and how he had grown from a ruffian into an excellent Duke. No, neither Jack nor Bertie knows that I know the secret. Yes, I am thoroughly annoyed at Jack and shall make him pay for his keeping the news from me but I think that the priority is Millicent's situation with Bertie."

Taking the decanter, Val poured more sherry for each of them and then once again sat down at the escritoire. "Now, ladies, the men are most certainly concocting yet another scheme to keep Millicent from discovering this bit of information, while at the same time forcing her to declare her true feelings to one Mr. Bertrand Sparrow. Are we going to sit back and let them blithely proceed with their nefarious plot or are we going to devise our own battle plan?"


	17. A Desire Fulfilled

Hidden in the shadows, Bertie watched her as she danced, laughed and flirted with a variety of men. At first, his temper had swelled to unreasonable proportions. She was his, damn it! Her smiles belonged to him and not the callow youth swarming about her likes bees swarmed to honey. Then, he forced himself to calm down. She was, in fact, his. Millicent had chosen to give herself to him and not one of these unseasoned whelps. This was merely her way of trying to assert her independence and prove that she did not need him.

He'd allow her this charming little self-deception for a little longer. The plan that James and Jack had hatched required him to allow Millicent the false impression that he had withdrawn from the field of battle. It was not a tactic that would have been his first choice under other circumstances. Having had a taste of the delights to be found with Millicent, his hunger had increased rather than diminished. However, with no plan of his own to offer, going along with James' and Jacks' convoluted machinations seemed the only viable alternative. Though, if that young Worthington fellow continued to place his grubby paws on her, he would find himself on the wrong side of Bertie's fist.

The desire to act was growing with each passing moment and day. It had been nearly two weeks since that morning and progress was difficult to discern. Actually, if he were honest about it, he was losing more ground than he gained. Part of the problem was that she did not seem to be languishing in despair as the two men had predicted she would. In fact, she appeared to be having a grand time at all the balls and events that she attended nightly. But of more concern was that James had reported that last week a disturbing new ritual had begun: every day a large bouquet of hothouse flowers arrived for Millicent. The cards attached simply read:

_Awaiting anxiously our next meeting._

_Your devoted admirer-_

_Vicentio_

Neither James nor Jack knew who this Vicentio fellow was and their attempts to garner information from their wives proved futile. Thus Bertie was reduced to skulking in shadows, trying to catch a glimpse of his would-be rival. He felt a twinge a fear and self-doubt as he recalled how Millicent had been dreaming of this Italian scoundrel the very night they had made love. He needed to find this slimy cad and ensure that the would be suitor got the message that Millicent was well and truly claimed.

* * *

Millicent smiled and chatted, even though she wished the pompous young man speaking to her would spontaneously combust and dissolve into a pile of ashes. Worthington was not only dreadfully boring but he seemed to have more hands than a spider has legs. Still, she could not show her annoyance. Katherine and Val had insisted that it was imperative it appear as if she were having a wonderful time.

The pleasure of watching as Bertie did his best to remain inconspicuous provided some consolation. Millicent was tempted to point out the uninvited guest to her hostess. Watching the footman toss Bertie out would have been very entertaining. But when she' voiced this thought to Katherine, Katherine had vetoed the idea vociferously. Bertie thought he was so clever and discreet but she'd spotted him last week at the theatre and at every event she'd attended since then. Men were really so thick at times. Did Bertie really think a potted plant would hide him from sight?

Katherine and Val promised that their plan would bring Bertie to heel in the most expedient and satisfactory way possible. Thankfully, the climax of their plan was scheduled for tonight. As satisfying as it was to punish Bertie for his lying to her, Millicent did not know if she could take another evening of performing a show for an audience of one. Not to mention that with the dally delivery of extravagant floral arrangements, the front parlor was beginning to look and smell like someone was laid out. After this charade was completed, she would have a lifetime to extract revenge in much more pleasurable and rewarding ways.

So lost in her daydreams of Bertie groveling at her feet was she that the sudden feel of a proprietary hand at her waist caused her to jump a bit and spill some her champagne on Worthington's well polished shoes. As the young man bit off a startled curse, it dawned on Millicent that if Worthington was in front of her, then it could not be his hand resting so familiarly against the small of her back. Confirming her suspicion that the floor show was about to begin, a smooth voice whispered loudly enough for all to hear, "Bella mia, I grow so desolate without you. "

Millicent cocked her head and surveyed her new swain. He was tall, as tall as Bertie. But that was where any resemblance between the two men began and ended. Vicentio -for a moment Millicent wondered about his real name – was dark while Bertie was fair and possessed a wiry frame in contrast to Bertie's more solid frame. Still and all, there was no denying that this gentleman was quite attractive and dashing in appearance. Val had chosen well. This man positively oozed continental smoothness and charm.

"Mi amore, are you not to introduce me to these young boys who hang on your words like lovesick pups?"

The question was asked in an Italian accent so thick that it took Millicent a moment to decipher it. At least Millicent assumed it was an Italian accent. She'd never heard one before this moment but Val's friend was supposed to be a stage actor who specialized in playing foreign roles. Before she could answer, Worthington spoke on behalf of her bevy of admirers.

"Now see here, old chap, there is no need for such an insulting tone. I doubt that our hostess appreciates a commoner such as yourself insulting her guests. And I am certain that Miss Witherspoon would appreciate it if you would remove your improperly placed hand. "

Millicent stifled a snort at the irony of Worthington commenting upon improper hands. She'd been fighting his unwelcome touches for the past few weeks.

" Mi scusi , I no , how as you say, commoner. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vicentio de la Firenze, Count di Parmigianno and betrothed of Signorina Worthington."

* * *

Upon the arrival of the dark stranger, Bertie had begun slowly and discretely working his way closer to the small group. He caught a snippet of what he thought was Italian but he wasn't certain. One thing was a given though, he did not like the familiar way the newcomer touched Millicent and, if the aggressive stances of Worthington and his friends were any indication, they felt the same. Then Bertie heard a pronouncement that caused him to abandon any attempt to remain hidden and unnoticed. Fury swept through him. So this was Vicentio?

Deciding that staking his claim was more important than anything else, Bertie strode to his rival and firmly removed Vicentio's hand from Millicent's hip. "Excuse me, sir, but you are sadly mistaken. Miss Witherspoon is in fact my fiancée, not yours. I would highly suggest that you take your departure while still able to do so under your own steam."

Inwardly trilling that Bertie had at long last taken the bait, Millicent pretended to resent his interference. "Bertie Sparrow, how dare you? How dare you make such a ridiculous pronouncement? I have not agreed to marry you. The Count di Parmigianno is a much better catch than you. If anyone has a claim to make, it is the Duke of Wildbourne. Since he has yet to show himself, I have decided to accept the Count's offer."

"You would so easily abandon Wildbourne? I thought your heart was set becoming part of the peerage?" Bertie had a moment of confusion as he realized that he had almost come to think of Wildbourne and himself as two separate people. Not only had she rejected him, Bertie, but she'd also rejected Wildbourne. This thought destroyed what little reign he had on his temper.

"Scusi, I think …"

"Shut your trap, you rotter. You'll be lucky to leave here with all your teeth intact."

"Stop it, Bertie. It is none of your business what I do or whom I marry. Besides, a count is also a member of peerage."

Bending down so he was nose to nose with her, Bertie snidely inquired, "But you admit, _Duchess,_ that a Duke outranks a count, correct?"

Millicent, unsure of where he was headed, cautiously replied, "Yes." This plan was not working out the way Val and Katherine had said it would. They had said that Bertie would practically fall prostrate with repentance for his deception. If the glint in his eye was any indication, groveling for forgiveness was the furthest thing from his mind.

Bertie gave a sweeping bow in an exaggerated manner that could only be described as sarcastic. He clasped her hand and placed an overly courtly kiss on her fingers before saying, "Then I win, Duchess. Duke trumps count. Allow me to introduce myself. Bertie Sparrow, more formally addressed as Duke of Wildbourne. And now, long after possessing your delectable body, I shall be the proud owner of your mercenary little heart and hand." He stood back and watch with satisfaction as her face reflected disbelief. His mouth formed a smug smile.

The young men next to Millicent murmured their surprise at his pronouncement and their disapproval over his indiscreet and harsh words. They formed a protective half circle around her.

Millicent stood stunned by Bertie's declaration. She could tell by his grin that he thought she would be pleased by his announcement. _The daft, arrogant, obnoxious man!_ His acerbic declaration so infuriated her that she was close to shrieking with frustration. He was not acting according to the script she had written in her mind.

She blinked away the rapidly forming tears, took a deep breath and decided to at long last give in to the desire she'd denied for so long. Standing on tiptoes' she drew her right arm back, closed her fingers into a fist and punched Mr. Bertrand Sparrow squarely on the nose.


	18. A Gossip's Tale

_Dear Readers-_

_Well, well, well this Season has turned into one that we shall surely remember for many years to come. Now you all know that I certainly am not one to pass on idle, malicious gossip and I shall not sully my sterling reputation with unsupported rumors. No, dear readers, I shall as always maintain my journalistic integrity. Is it my fault if I happened to attend what is certain to be the soiree of the decade? What follows is a first hand, non-judgmental account of the evening's events. Of course, the names have been omitted to allow some of our peers (in all senses of the word) to retain their dignity._

_I must say that Lady K- provided a more than adequate venue for the festivities. Though perhaps the theme of moonlight and roses is a touch tired and overdone, I am sure that for those for whom this is their first season found it delightful and charming. Unfortunately, the bride of a new but well known member of Parliament took the theme a tad too literally and donned eveningwear made of white satin that would have been better suited to one half her age. Keeping to the theme of the evening, one could say the bloom is definitely off that rose._

_One could take the time to describe the refreshments but why should one expend more effort than the caterer did? Yet, if the amount of time Lord F- spent at the buffet table was any indication, he did not agree with my assessment of the food quality. But enough of the minor details and on to what made the evening so very entertaining and memorable._

_As I am sure you are aware, a certain earl- in-waiting has recently returned to us from warmers climes south of the equator. While my competitor over at The Post might take this opportunity to comment upon the whispers concerning piracy and other nefarious doings, I shall take the high road and merely welcome the bird back to the nest. After all, if one if the King's own can forgive and forget past indiscretions, who am I to hold onto the past? Well, the bird's cousin, a heretofore upstanding if perpetually absent member of the ton, apparently caught a fever while visiting the earl to be. How else could one explain his actions last night? Indeed, what I can only assume to be his deceptive actions of the past few months._

_It started out innocently enough. Miss W-, a diamond of the first water, was once again holding court to a bevy of admirers. Though she has not shown a particular preference for any young man and she has sported a vulgarly large ring since her arrival in London, the young swains still flock to her at every event. While she and her friends have remained frustratingly tight-lipped about the situation, rumour has it that though Miss W- is not to the manor "bourne" , she will soon be mistress of one of our oldest family estates. _

_Shockingly, it seems as if she was unaware of the "Wild" side of her fiancée. Details are still scarce but one thing is clear; the Duke of W- may have already secured an heir without having first secured a duchess. I am not one to cast stones, but one wonders if something runs through the veins of that section of the peerage?_

_At any rate, the Duke of W- shed his dislike of ton events long enough to step forward and publically claim what had apparently been privately conquered. He would do well to study the works of some of England's more famous poets as his own eloquence is limited. Indeed, his attempt at wooing Miss W- were so foul that she bloodied his nose. Yes, dear reader, you read that correctly. She bloodied his nose! Subsequent events after that are hazy. Suffice to say that a regular melee erupted and a majority of Lady K's guests became involved. By the time the authorities were summoned, several tables, chairs and porcelain pieces had been demolished; not to mention that more than one lady and gentleman sustained injuries and bruises. The evening ended with at least a dozen of society's finest being carted off to the goal. _

_If this is what their engagement announcement entails, one can only imagine what the wedding will be like. Perhaps Commodore- will bring his troops to keep order? Then again, since he was one of those to make a trip to the goal, perhaps not._

When the smooth baritone voice finished relating the column's contents, the only sound left was the occasional snap as a piece of wood popped in the fire. The silence stretched on uncomfortably: each of the room's occupants lost in their own thoughts. Finally, James, with a snort of disgust, wadded up the paper and threw it into the fireplace. The truth was that no one knew quite what to say. While unconventionality had ruled their own courtships, nothing this extreme had occurred.

Finally, from her reclined position on the settee, Katherine offered, "Well, it could have been worse. She could have mentioned names."

"Could have been worse? Could have been worse? How the bloody hell could it be worse? Any reader with a modicum of intelligence will know exactly whom she is speaking about. "

"There is no need to shout at me, James. It is not my fault that Bertie acted like an inconsiderate boor. If you men had not been so intent on manipulating poor Millicent, this situation would never have occurred."

"Poor Millicent? Poor Milli..."

Jack cut James off before he could finish his retort, "Will you two please stop yelling at each other? My head is aching and I need sleep. "

Katherine gave a haughty sniff. "I was not shouting, Jack. That was all my dear husband's doing. I was quite reasonably pointing out that this whole situation could have been avoided if you men had behaved in an adult fashion." Her regal air was marred when she sat up and the raw beefsteak slid down her face and landed in her lap, revealing a black eye.

James felt his gut twist at the sight. The bruise looked even worse now than it had a few hours ago. When he'd seen a hefty matron swing her reticule at Kat, his blood had run cold then terrifyingly hot. In less than five strides he'd crossed the ballroom, intent upon bodily dragging the old crow away from his wife, if need be. Fortunately, with the assistance of a once valuable vase, Kat had the situation well in hand before he'd had to take action. "Adult fashion? I suppose that advising Millicent to produce a fake Italian Count was the product of a mature thinking process?"

Before Katherine could snap back, Val interjected, "Please stop, you two. I'm exhausted and bickering is pointless. I, for one, am just grateful that the magistrate decided not to press charges and let us go. I don't think I could have endured many more hours cooped up in that cell. Though I must say, I am more than a touch aggravated that our two lovebirds managed to escape capture. It does not seem at all fair that they got off scot free when they were the ones who started the brawl."

As he listened to his wife, Jack poured them all a stiff round of drinks. He distributed them and the perched on the back of Val's chair and began to gently massage her shoulders. "Trust me, my love, that was a paradise compared to some of the places I've been held, some of them courtesy of our good Commodore here. Still and all, the din and whining of our fellow members of society did add a hellish element I've never before experienced. I especially enjoyed Mrs. Clayborne's cries of '_Stop assaulting my person, young man_.' That poor constable was not even within three feet of her." Jack's eerily accurate falsetto impression of the matron brought the first real smiles to the room.

The tension of the past twelve hours at last broken, Katherine observed, "Perhaps we all became too involved Bertie and Millicent's personal matters." Ignoring her husband's loud snort and sarcastic mumbles, she continued, "However, it was done with the best of intentions. Yet I suppose that we'd best leave it to the two of them to sort out. I only wish they'd also endured the night in a cell, the same as us. Maybe then they'd have been forced to stop being so pig headed and talk to each other."

"I agree, Katherine. Enough of this silliness already. " Val got up and rang the bell pull. Within seconds, a young servant was at the door. "Alicia, please be good enough to fetch Miss Witherspoon from her room?" After the maid had left on her mission, Valentine declared, "She's been hiding up there long enough. Time for her to face the music and resolve this problem. Meanwhile, I'm famished. We never had our supper last night and it's long past time for us to break our fast. Shall we go see what cook has prepared for luncheon?"

Several minutes later, the foursome were happily eating much needed sustenance when they were interrupted by Abigail bursting unceremoniously into the room. "Mrs. Sparrow, she's not there and her bed- it's not been slept in."

There was a clatter as four forks fell to the table. Then, being the first to regain his reason, James barked out, "Send a man to Wildbourne's club and fetch him here immediately." Once the servant was out of earshot, he added, "Not that I hold out much hope that he'll be there. Seems as if they may have sorted out their differences after all."


	19. An Abduction Part Deux

A/N I bet you all thought I was either dead or had abandoned this story. Nope! I just haven't been inspired. I sat down to write this chapter and quickly wind up the story and then... *sigh* Oh well, at least a few more chapters to go. :)

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The feeling of overwhelming satisfaction was soon replaced by pain. Millicent grimaced and cradled her hand. Who would have guessed that Bertie's nose would be so solid? Still and all, it had been worth it. Bertrand Sparrow had deserved exactly what he got. Millicent opened her mouth to tell him as such when she was jostled by Worthington as he reached to grab the Count. She heard a loud shriek from across the room and turned to identify the source. Within mere moments, it seemed as if the ballroom had turned into a common tavern.

Everywhere she looked, she saw once elegant gentlemen and ladies behaving as if they were sailors and fishwives. Millicent gave a cry of distress as she witnessed Katherine use a vase to clobber a society matron. Uncertain of what do to in the angry rout, Millicent remained frozen to the spot. She could not believe what she was seeing; let alone figure out how to respond.

"Do something, Millicent. You can not merely stand here like a ninny," she mumbled to herself. Speaking the words out loud worked its magic and her momentary paralysis was broken. She took a tentative step in the direction where she had just seen Katherine. The press of brawling bodies blocked her line of sight. Before she could take another step, a large hand covered her mouth and she felt an arm wrap around her waist and lift her from her feet. Unceremoniously, she was hauled from the melee and out to the veranda.

Self preservation kicked in and she began to struggle against her captor. Her efforts only netted her a tighter embrace and a deep throated chuckle from her abductor. Instantly, Millicent stilled as a feeling of déjà vu washed over her.

"Bertrand Sparrow, unhand me this instant," Millicent imperiously ordered. She was dismayed to realize that his hand muffled the words and turned them into a series of inarticulate grunts. Deliberately, she aimed a hard kick at his shin and grinned when she heard his hiss of pain.

"Stop that, Duchess. You should be thanking me for getting you out of there. Now, I'm going to release you. We need to get out of here. We have quite a lot to talk about and this is not the place to conduct such a conversation." Gingerly, he removed his hands.

Millicent whirled on him, "Don't you dare even speak to me, Your Grace. You have humiliated and insulted me for the last time." Unconsciously, she rubbed her sore hand and winced at the pain.

Bertie noted her involuntary reaction. His heart felt a pang of sympathy that he quickly squashed. "I've humiliated you? As I recall, you were the one who was simultaneously flaunting my ring and flirting with that bevy of besotted fools."

Millicent narrowed her eyes and glared at the object of her ire. "Bertrand Spar…."

The coming tirade petered out as both of their attentions were captured by two paddy wagons arriving at the townhouse. Bertie and Millicent watched as several officers made their way to the front door and banged loudly on the door. Evidently the noise from the hubbub inside prevented the butler from hearing and answering the summons. After a few minutes of consultation, two of the burliest of the blue uniformed men rushed at the door. The door gave under the combined force and all eight of the men swarmed inside.

Bertie gave a low whistle. "Damnation! We need to get out of here, Duchess. Now."

"I have absolutely no intention of going anywhere with you."

"Duchess, you either come with me or end up in the gaol. Your choice." With these words, Bertie vaulted over the railing and landed on the ground with a thud. He gave a silent prayer of thanks that they had only been one floor up. Any higher and the only way out would have been back through the house.

"Bertie! Don't you dare leave me," shrieked Millicent.

"Sh! We are trying to avoid detection, not bring them running. Now jump and I will catch you."

Millicent peered uncertainly over the railing. It looked awfully far down to her. Running away with Bertrand might not be a wise idea. A shout from inside drew her attention. Turning around she watched through the glass doors as one of the burly fellows was hit over the head with what looked to be a valuable painting. Her decision made for her; she hiked up her skirts and carefully crawled over the railing. There was just enough room for her to perch her toes on the stone lip of the balcony. Fearfully, she clutched to the rail and held her skirts at the same time: the result being that she ended up baring a great deal more leg than intended.

"Bertie? Bertie are you ready?" she frantically whispered. "Bertie!"

Bertie roused himself from his admiration of the view she provided and the resultant memories. "Come on, Duchess, you can do it. I'm right below you."

With a little squeak, Millicent let go of the railing and fell into Bertie's waiting arms. True to his word, he caught her and safely set her on the ground. As a result, she did not demur when he hurried her down the street, around the corner and into a waiting carriage. Bertie murmured a few words to his driver and the carriage departed at a breakneck pace. Settling back into their seats, Bertie and Millicent looked at each other and then burst at laughing in joy at their narrow escape.

Several minutes had passed before a still chuckling Millicent looked out a window, only to realize that they were heading out of town. "Where are we going? Take me home, Bertie. There has been quite enough excitement for one night."

Bertie smiled. "While I am pleased you already view my townhouse as home, we are heading to Wildbourne. It is long past time to put this foolishness in the past."

All shreds of merriment fled. "Bertrand Sparrow, you have this carriage turn around this instant."

"No." He shrugged off his jacket and loosened his cravat. "I suggest you make yourself comfortable. It's a long journey," with these words he leaned back into the corner and closed his eyes. Within moments, his breathing became deep and even.

Millicent felt her mouth fall open at his actions. She was spoiling for a fight and he had fallen asleep. She sat quietly fuming for a bit and then made up her mind. Scooting over, she reached to open the window. _If Bertie was not going to order the driver to turn around, she would._

Poking her head out, she was about to call to the driver, but before she could get word out an arm snaked out and yanked her back down into the seat. "Tsk, tsk, Duchess. A man can not even close his eyes for a moment around you. Look, I am tired and we've a long journey. Are you going to cooperate and do this the easy way or shall we do it the more difficult and unpleasant way?"

Millicent donned her most haughty expression. "Your Grace, I have no intention of assisting you in this scandalous abduction. I shall fight you every step of the way. What's more, Vicentio will most certainly follow us and challenge you. You'd best be aware that he is an expert swordsman."

Her words had been amusing to Bertie until she mentioned that damned Vicentio. A fine red mist blurred his vision. "All right then, Duchess, your choice. Do not say that I did not warn you and give you a choice."

In a flash, Bertie stripped off his cravat, moved the short distance across to her seat and grabbed her hands. Millicent did not even have time to struggle before he tied her hands together. He then yanked her close to his side and placed his left arm around her shoulders. With one hand and the help of his teeth, he tied the dangling end of his cravat to his own right wrist.

A shocked Millicent found herself well and truly caught in Bertie's embrace and unable to escape. Her head tucked underneath his chin, she felt as well as heard the low rumble of his laughter.

"Perhaps I misspoke. This could indeed prove to be a very pleasant way to make the journey."

Millicent wriggled and managed to pull back far enough to meet his gaze. She was disconcerted to realize their lips were mere inches away. Traitorously, her pulse began to race and the sudden flare in Bertie's eyes indicated that he also was affected by the proximity.

Breathlessly, she threatened, "Untie me this instant, Bertie, or I shall scream for the driver."

Bertie smirked. "There are two problems with that course of action, Duchess. Firstly, my driver is well trained to ignore all sorts of interesting sounds emanating from my carriages." He paused and enjoyed watching the flush stain her cheeks as she interpreted his meaning. "Secondly, that would require me to shut your delectable mouth and, with my hands both occupied, I can only think of one way to accomplish that feat. Your call, Duchess."

Millicent's mouth opened and closed and then opened and closed again. She considered calling his bluff, but she suspected that he was not bluffing. A little voice inside urged her to go ahead and attempt to scream anyway. Resolutely she hushed that voice and only emitted a huff of annoyance before settling back against his chest.

"Your decision wounds me. Still, I am exhausted. It has been an eventful evening and will be an even more eventful morrow. Close your eyes and get some rest."

Millicent refrained from retorting that sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. That would be far too revealing and feed his already overly inflated opinion of himself. Besides, she had decided that she was never going to speak to Bertrand Sparrow again. As she lay there mentally reciting his list of sins against her, the excitement of the evening caught up to her and she soon was asleep.


	20. A Noble Gesture

Bertie stared at the woman sleeping in his arms. She reminded him a sleeping angel. After such a long and eventful night, her gown was now wrinkled beyond repair and her hair had escaped its elegant coiffure. Yet, she still managed to look beautiful enough to grace any ballroom. A soft chuckle escaped from Bertie as he ruefully admitted that he was perhaps a touch biased in his assessment. He loved this woman beyond reason. That was the only excuse he could offer himself for his behavior last night.

But in the cold light of the breaking dawn, he had found himself wondering what his next step should be. Hours had passed and he was no closer to a solution. Soon they would arrive at Wildbourne and they had yet to resolve the matter of marriage. A large part of him was tempted to tell the driver to head for Gretna Green. There, between his title and some strategically placed coin, he could purchase a marriage without ever requiring Millicent's active consent and participation. He dismissed the unworthy thought. He and Millicent had played enough games. It was time to set things right and begin their life together.

"Duchess, wake up. We'll soon be there and it won't do to arrive like this." Bertie softly shook the young woman.

Rather than awakening, Millicent snuggled more deeply into his embrace. "Stop it, Mister Boots. Let me sleep on. I'm having the most delightful dream," she murmured.

Gently and reluctantly, he set her away from him and began to untie the makeshift tether. "Sweetheart, you must wake up."

Millicent opened her eyes. Disoriented, she stared at him stupidly for a few moments. She'd been having such a wonderful dream. She and Bertie had been dancing and he'd smiled and looked at her like a man in love looks at his heart's desire. Millicent swallowed her disappointment when she finally recalled the night's events and realized that Bertie's countenance currently revealed more anguish than affection. Pushing a stray lock away from her face, she stiffly mumbled, "My apologies, your Grace. I'd quite forgotten where I was and who I was with. It won't happen again."

"Don't."

"I beg your pardon, your Grace, don't what?" Millicent tried to infuse a challenging tone into her voice and was dismayed to her the tremble in her words. She closed her eyes tightly and took a few deep breathes to regain her composure. The events of last night had sealed their fate. Neither had any choice but to marry, and as quickly as possible. Her dream was only that- a dream. She, Val and Katherine had been horribly mistaken in believing Bertie secretly loved her. Bertie's words last night displayed exactly how little he thought of her. Oh, he was willing to marry her, but only because honor demanded it.

Bertie reached out to brush a tear from her eye, but thought better of it and let his hand drop. Heaving a sigh, he scooted over to the other side of the carriage. This situation was impossible. After last night, they had no choice but to marry. He'd hoped that she'd truly loved him. He'd even been willing to settle for her marrying him for title and fortune. Apparently, he'd been completely wrong in his calculations. Judging from her aspect, wedded bliss with him was not on any agenda of hers. Bertie felt as if he'd been kicked in the gut. Not only did she not love him for himself, she didn't even love him for his money. A humorless chuckle escaped his lips.

"What is it, your Grace?"

Through clenched teeth, Bertie snarled, "Stop calling me that."

Millicent was confused at how angry Bertie was growing. Suddenly, it was all too much for her to bear. The tears that had only threatened freely fell and quickly turned into outright weeping.

Bertie moved to once again take her in his arms. "Sweetheart, stop. Please stop crying. We'll work it out," he crooned into her hair. There was no improvement in her crying. Bertie, for the first time in his life, felt completely helpless. He loved this woman and, through his asinine actions, he'd hurt her. Swallowing hard, he reached a decision. Their marriage was a fait accompli, but he could make some reparations. "Duchess, listen to me. Please listen. We'll marry soon. There's nothing for it but it be done quickly. After that…"

Millicent's crying had abated somewhat and she pulled back to look at him. 'After that, what?'

Bertie could taste his own blood from where his teeth were biting into his lower lip. He noted that they had reached the turnoff for Wildbourne, and he could see his home in the distance. Less than a quarter hour and they'd arrive. What needed to be said, needed to be said quickly. Staring out the window was easier than meeting her eyes. "After that… After that, we'll produce an heir and then you'll be free to join your Vincentio. All I ask is that you do so abroad. I shall settle a large sum on you and…"

The howls that filled the small space would have done a hound dog proud. Bertie was flummoxed by the now sobbing Millicent who was now clutching at his shirtfront as if her life depended upon it. He'd heard of tears of joy but this did not seem to fit that description. What more could he do? How could he make it right? "Millicent, please. Please tell me what to do. I understand that a year apart from your love will be difficult but it will pass quickly."

Rearing her head back and thumping him on the chest, Millicent stopped crying long enough to demand, "Do you really hate me so much, Bertie? I know you think I'm selfish and immature but I do have feelings. Why must you be so cruel?"

"Cruel?" Bertie found indignation begin to replace sorrow. "Cruel, you call me? What more would you have me do? "

"I'd have you care enough to at least make a token protest at my loving another. Instead, you all but gift wrap me and push me out the door." Millicent curled into the corner of the seat and whispered, "I'd have you love me as I love you. I love you, Bertie, and sending me away will break my heart."

An incredulous Bertie could do nothing but stare at her in wonderment. Had he misunderstood her? Were they yet again at cross purposes? Minutes passed and he heard the driver ordering the horses to halt. They'd arrived and the servants would be on the front steps waiting to greet him. Bertie decided that pride be damned. "Love you, you little idiot? Why the hell else would I be your willing cuckold? Love you? Of course, I love you. I'd be happiest man on earth if you'd consent to be my wife."

The coachman, alarmed by the shriek and jolt in the carriage, quickly jumped down and ran to see what mishap had occurred. He opened the door and quickly slammed it shut again. Blushing beet red, he spoke to the closed door, "Er, begging your pardon, your Grace. I'll just be giving you some privacy." Then he hustled away from the vehicle and urged the servants inside. "His Grace will be wanting some time to reach an understanding. He'll be in soon enough and famished, if I'm not mistaken. Best prepare his rooms and those of the late Duchess. I expect his Grace will have news to share with you all."

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AN- One more chapter to go. It's already written so there won't be a several year lapse between posting. ;)


	21. It's Time

_Three weeks later…_

"A toast to Bertie and Millicent. If your union brings you half the joy mine has, you shall be blessed indeed." James raised a glass of champagne to the couple but his eyes were firmly fixed on his own wife. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of activity and he and Kat had seen very little of each other. He looked forward to the journey home where he would have her all to himself. It was selfish he knew. Kat would dearly miss Val and Millicent. If he were truthful, the loss of Jack and Bertie's company was not a pleasant thing. Still, the other couples' futures lay in England whilst he and Kat belonged in Port Royal.

Never one to be upstaged, Jack stood and grandly pronounced, "Drinks all around! It's a wedding and I love a good wedding."

His wife wryly noted, "You might have done that to more effect, Jack. Waiting until the guests have departed makes for a rather small round."

The others chucked at her observation. Jack inclined his head in acknowledgment of her point, but then observed, "Ah, but it is the quality of the gathering, not the quantity. Frankly, I'm glad to be well shot of most of the honored guests. I doubt that I could have remained my ever charming self if another young wench inquired, 'Were you really a pirate? My, how utterly fascinating!'"

Jack's talent for mimicry yet again had his friends laughing. Bertie chimed in, "You'd best become used to it, Jack. Our family is certain to be the center of attention for quite a while. With Millicent and me now respectably leg-shackled, your past will be cause for gossip until something new occurs to capture their interest."

At this observation, the three ladies furtively glanced at each other and each wore a small grin.

James noticed the exchange and demanded, "Out with it, Kat. What morsel of information are the three of you hiding?"

"James darling, really, you are impossible. Nothing is being hidden. There simply is a correct time to share news and an incorrect time to share news. But, seeing as how we are currently toasting happy events, I've had a letter from Elizabeth. She and Will are the proud parents of a new baby boy."

The announcement was met with smiles and laughs. Jack proposed another toast, "To the bonny baby Turner. A baby. I love babies. Drinks all around and I'll send a case of champagne back with you, Commodore. You can offer our congratulations to young Mr. and Mrs. Turner."

Jack tossed the glass of champagne back and sat down again. A lightening quick expression of wistfulness crossed his face before being replaced with his usual grin. Val's heart lurched a little at the sight. Poor Jack so wanted a child, even though he would never admit it out loud. She met Kat's eyes and Kat nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Jack, I've been thinking." Val was interrupted by a playful groan from Jack. After shooting him a quelling look, she continued, "I think it past time we stop imposing on Bertie's hospitality. We really should find our own home in town. After all, sparrows really do need their own nests, especially come springtime."

Gazing fondly at his wife, Jack nodded his agreement. Bertie and Millicent would soon follow Will and Elizabeth's example and begin a family of their own. "Yes, my love, springtime likely will bring the incessant chirping of young offspring. We're best off away from the noise."

Kat began a coughing spate that seemed suspiciously like a fit of the giggles and both Millicent and Val smiled broadly.

"Oh dear, I am sorry that you feel that way, darling. No doubt this coming spring shall prove a trying one for you."

The table went silent. A suspicion slowly forming, Jack searched his wife's face and saw her radiant smile. He noticed her hand protectively placed on her belly. Valentine stood and raised her glass, "A toast all around. To our baby, Jack. A baby. I do know how much you love them."

Comprehension dawned and the fearsome pirate Captain Jack Sparrow fainted dead away.

Several minutes later, Jack was revived and the chatter had dulled to a low roar. Jack sported a silly grin and was happily drinking a toast, unashamed of the tears in his eyes.

James leaned over to his wife and whispered, "How long have you known, Mrs. Norrington?"

"For several weeks now. In fact, I guessed it before Val even knew herself. She wanted to wait and make certain. As I said, there is a correct time to share and an incorrect time. I learned that lesson well after our false alarm last year."

Clasping her hand in his, he leaned over a brushed a kiss against her cheek. "Sweetheart, do not blame yourself. Your conclusion was mistaken. I am sorry that was the case, but it does not make me love you any the less. A child would be an added blessing, but child or no child, I am a very content and fortunate man."

"What are the two of you whispering about over there?" Millicent demanded.

"Oh, nothing much, Millicent. We were only speaking about how timing of news is everything," Katherine assured her not wanting to spoil the festive mood. "Now, tell us again all about this trip to the Continent that you are taking."

The next few hours flew swiftly past. Jack and James mercilessly teased Bertie about his refusal to include Italy on his honeymoon tour. Bertie remained resolute. He did not care if Vicentio was a fictional character; there was no way he was taking any chances of Millicent meeting a real life version of the hero. The ladies excitedly planned the shopping that Millicent would do in Paris. Before they knew it, the day had grown late.

At last, Bertie cleared his throat and rose. "As much as it pains me to say, it is time that Millicent and I were off. We've a ship to catch. James and Katherine, I regret that we shall not be here to see you off home and I regret it even more that you shall not be here when we return from our journey. Your friendship is invaluable to both Millicent and me. I speak for all four of us when I say that I only wish we could have persuaded you stay and take up residence here. If there is ever any service I can provide you, do not hesitate to ask."

While the others rose, busied themselves with goodbyes and prepared to leave, Kat remained seated. Clearing her throat to gain everyone's attention, she calmly announced, "Now that you mention it, your Grace. There is one tiny favor you could do for us. It would be ever so kind of you to loan us one of your homes until we can lease a place of our own. Doctor Taylor absolutely insists that a long ocean voyage is too risky for me in my delicate condition. Silly man, you'd think I was the first woman to be with child."

Smiling at the five stunned faces, Kat stood up and gently kissed her beloved James on the mouth. "Timing, my darling. It's all about the timing." Anything else she might have said was drowned out by the shouts of joy from their four good friends and by the ardent kiss James was bestowing upon her.

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AN: Thank you to everyone who stayed with me through these three stories and many years. Writing this ending was meant to be my goodbye to FFN. But, I've found that saying farewell to these characters was and is more difficult than I'd imagined. Last night, I dreamed of Kat and James' daughter and Val and Jack's son. It may be a plot bunny that I have to follow…


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